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

 

Seriously why?

What has he ever done to deserve a sunflower like you?

I know that he used to be a wonderful guy and he even bought you chocolate once or twice.

But that was at the beginning of your relationship.

Now he’s just an ass.


For instance, he asks you to buy his lunch daily because he refuses to get an actual job.

Remember when you had that panic attack because you thought you were about to fail out of school?

And instead of calling me

Your best friend

You called him.

>:(

And he told you that you were being overly dramatic and then hung up.

Do you remember that?

Yeah, I remember that, too.

Or that time you guys had that big fight because he constantly talks to his ex-girlfriends about your relationship’s problems…

Oh but then he manipulated the situation and made it your fault because you didn’t trust him.

ugh.


I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long.

I’ve listened to you tell anticlimactic stories about how his good intentions almost saved the day that one time and it was almost really remarkable.

I’ve heard every “almost” story.

I’ve watched the entire relationship unfold miserably.

And I give you props for being such a forgiving and optimistic person.

But seriously dude

It has to stop.


You are such a stunning human being and it makes me physically ill to watch him treat you the way he does.

Every time he says, “You wear too much makeup.”

or, “You should lose weight.”

or, “Babe, don’t worry it’s just flirting. I’m not cheating on you.”

It hurts me to watch you hurt.

Because you absolutely do not wear too much makeup.

And you are absolutely perfect looking.

And flirting with someone else is absolutely cheating.

I don’t give an eff what he thinks.

Zero effs.

Not one.


At some point you have to realize that you’re worth more, right?

That there has to be a line

One that he cannot blur

One that he cannot cross

Right?

And when the day comes that he attempts to walk across that line you’ll set his ass straight.

Right?


God…

I am so worried for you

And for your heart.

Because every time he does another horrifying thing I witness a small part of who you are disappear into nothing.

I watch pieces of your identity fade away.

You don’t take mesmerizing photos anymore.

You don’t write colorful poetry anymore.

You never talk about God or your solid foundation of faith anymore.

No instead you talk about him and every little thing that he doesn’t like about you.

And every little thing that you need to change about yourself in order to keep him happy.

That terrifies me. 


But still, I have hope.

I hope you rediscover what a lovely soul you are and that your heart is one of the most precious things to exist on this earth.

I hope you find your sense of security in yourself and God rather than in a guy who doesn’t know the difference between love and lust.

I hope you walk outside one day and take some captivating photos.

And I hope you sit down and write a poem that could make a brick wall cry.

And when that beautiful day comes when you decide that you’re done with him,

The day you realize that he is completely full of it.

I will still be here

Ready to key his car

Ready to help you burn all his crap

Ready to do whatever illegal act is necessary to help you feel better

Because we’re best friends and that’s what we do.

But until then,

Whenever you talk about him or even just mention his stupid name,

I will continue to ask..

Every time

“Why the EFF are you dating him?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hate that word.

“Sociopath.”

It makes you sound like a complete monster.

Like some serial killer that we hear about on the news.

I don’t think you’re a monster.

Well, I didn’t used to think that you were a monster.

Because when I think of monsters I think of horrifying creatures that reside in my closet and only come out when I’m having a nightmare.

I don’t think of a handsome guy with nice hair sleeping in my bed and whispering “I love you so much” over and over and over again.

No, when I used to think of a monster, you never came to mind.

That changed.

I now see you for what you really are.

A sociopath.


 

You’re someone who feels absolutely no remorse.

Someone who could hurt me repeatedly over the course of a three year relationship.

Someone who feels some sick type of happiness whenever you meet your next victim.

Someone who hurts people

Badly.

Someone who hurt me

Badly.

Someone whom I loved

Badly.

I sure know how to pick ’em, right?


In my defense when I met you, I was 12 years old.

I didn’t even know what a boy was.

Let alone what love was.

I saw you and I was instantly enchanted with the firm way you held my hand during our first hand-shake.

The way your blue green eyes looked straight into mine as if you had known me for my entire life. Just as if we both knew right then that we were made to be together.

That thought stayed with me until I was 19 years old (much longer than I’d like to admit).


 

 

Only after I moved off to college and faded away from you did I realize that something about our relationship was just…

off.

I started having flashbacks that involved you and certain parts of our relationship that haunt me to this day.

And as much as I hate to say it,

I remember it all. 

I remember our very first “date” when I  was 15 and you shoved your hand down my pants in a public restaurant and I started crying.

You hadn’t even kissed me yet.

I remember when you screamed at me and told me you were going to hit me with your car because I couldn’t buy you dinner that day.

I remember you never taking “no” for an answer.

Not once.

I remember you saying horrible things about my family and alienating me from everyone I loved.

I remember things that I will probably never repeat for the remainder of my life.

I remember it all.

And I’d give anything to forget every last one of those memories.


 

What I still don’t understand is,

why?

Why me?

I loved every single piece of you

Even the dark ones.

The world has treated you horribly and I know that.

I was sitting there right beside you, holding your hand as it all took place.

And I was there as you intentionally hurt me over and over again so that I’d feel as horrible as you did all the time. 

You’ve had a hard life.

 

And I thought that if I could take even a shred of discomfort away from you,

If I could’ve taken any of the hard hits and spared you any second of pain,

I would’ve.

I allowed you to take advantage of me for years because I was 15 and I thought that I was doing the right thing because I loved you.

I was wrong. 

Love is not allowing someone to abuse you so that they can feel empowered and in control. 

 

And I’ve been terrified of you ever since the day I realized that you are a complete sociopath.

Because if I could recall every single one of my worst nightmares,

They’d always involve you.


 

I’m not sure when I’ll let go of the fear and move on.

I’ve been working on it for a while.

You’ve made me completely incapable of having anything close to a healthy relationship.

I hate that.

I just want to be happy.

I just want to move on.

I just want to let go and completely forget everything that has happened.

But we both know that’s impossible.

So instead I’m trying a different and sometimes unpopular tactic,

Forgiveness.


 

I forgive you for taking advantage of my innocent heart and attempting to destroy any piece of happiness that has ever come my way.

I forgive you for completely skewing my view of love to the point where manipulation should just be expected in any of my relationships.

I forgive you for saying horrible things about my family and for damaging my relationship with my mother.

I forgive you for making my high school experience an absolute living hell.

And I forgive you for taking out all of your pent up anger on me.

Me. 

The person who loved you more than anyone else ever had.

I forgive you.

But it’s not for your sake,

No.

It’s for me. 

Because I refuse to be your victim any longer.

I refuse to allow you to be my worst fear.

I refuse to believe that everything you did to me for those three years was out of “love”

I refuse to believe that’s love.

I refuse to believe that is anything close to love.

And I refuse to let this experience define me.

Because no matter how much hate and hurt your existence puts into this world,

I will stay a loving, merciful person.

I refuse to change.

I refuse to become as hateful as you.

So instead,

I forgive you.

 

 

 

 

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @BeccaTremmel

 

 

 

Well, consensual sex that is.

In fact, let’s just start by defining the term “consensual sex.”

Consensual sex is two adults willingly and verbally agreeing to engage in sexual activity with each other.

Not too difficult to understand, right?

But there are many misunderstandings associated with the term “consensual sex”

Because in our culture, the line that separates consensual sex from nonconsensual sex has been blurred.

If you are intoxicated can you give sexual consent?

If you are dating or married to someone, is there still a need for sexual consent?

If you flirt with a guy and wear sexy, revealing clothing are you basically asking for sex?

If you’ve had consensual sex with this person before, should it already be assumed that your next sexual encounter is consensual?

And if you’re already having sex with someone but change your mind in the middle of it, is it consensual sex?

The answer to all of these questions is no.

And I’ll explain why.


 

  1. Intoxication 

If someone is intoxicated or high, they cannot give sexual consent.

The reason for this is because when you’re drunk or high, your thinking is altered and you could be making drunk decisions that you wouldn’t have made if you were sober.

If sexual activity does occur between someone who is drunk and someone who is sober, the responsibility for the misinterpretation belongs to the sober person and it is considered rape.

If both parties are intoxicated, the responsibility falls on the person who initiated the sexual activity.

Just think of it like this: if you’re too drunk to drive, you’re too drunk to have sex.


 

   2.   Married/Dating

Just because you’re married or dating someone, does not mean that you have to have sex with them.

You’re not obligated to sleep with someone just because you’ve entered a relationship with them.

Consent should be absolutely clear every single time you have sex, and the only way to have clear consent is to verbally say “Yes.”

Even married people should only have sex when they actually want to.


 

3. Clothing/Teasing

I’m going to try and make this as clear as possible.

If I am wearing clothing that is considered “revealing,” that does not mean in any way at all that I am inviting you to have sex with me.

Let’s look at it like this,

If I buy a beautiful brand new Mercedes-Benz and drive it around the town, I am not inviting you to take my car and give it a spin.

Just like if I’m wearing a pretty dress, I’m not hinting that you should take it off.

The only way someone could possibly be “asking for sex” is if someone literally says, “I want to have sex with you.”

Let’s not blame the victim or what they were wearing, let’s blame the rapist.


 

4.  Previous Sexual Consent

Again, consent must be given every single time someone has sex.

Let’s look at it like this, if you went out to dinner with someone last night then they shouldn’t be showing up at your door tonight assuming that you’re free to have dinner with them again. But when you tell them no, they get angry and start screaming, “But we had dinner last night and you were enjoying it! Why can’t we go out again tonight?!”

That’d be strange and you’d probably shut the door in their face.

So it doesn’t matter if you’ve had sex with someone before.

It doesn’t matter they’re asking for it again and calling you a “tease” or a “slut” because they know you’re “dtf.”

Just because you’ve engaged in sexual activity with someone before does not take away your power to say “No.”

You’re not a tease. They’re just disgusting.


 

5. Current Consensual Sexual Activity Turned Nonconsensual

People can change their mind once they’re already engaged in sexual activity.

If you begin having sex, that does not mean that you have to continue having sex.

Just verbally say that you no longer want to be engaged in that activity and if they stop, it’s not considered rape because you already consented.

However, if the activity continues, it’s considered sexual assault/rape.


 

I know that this topic is difficult to discuss and that many people misunderstand the line that defines consensual sex from nonconsensual sex, but that is exactly why I wrote this: to clarify.

Because when I was in high school, I had no idea what determined nonconsensual sex from consensual sex.

I thought it was simple.

I thought “sexual assault” could only occur when a poor girl was walking down the street and a random maniac popped out of the bushes and attacked her.

But according to RAINN (The nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization),

“82% of sexual assaults are perpetrated by a non-stranger.”

Most victims feel that it’s their own fault because they were drunk, or dating the attacker, or flirting with them, or have had sexual relations with the attacker before.

But it is never the victims fault.

So let’s promote the understanding of this difficult topic and make it clear just what is “sexual consent” and what it is not.

If you’re a victim of sexual assault or know someone who is and is struggling,

Here are a couple help lines:

  • RAINN – 1-800-656-HOPE
  • Safe Horizon – 212-227-3000

 

And if you have any more questions concerning consensual sex, watch this amazing video:

 

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @BeccaTremmel

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

“I’m just tired.”

That’s how depression makes you feel.

Tired.


But it’s not like a well-maybe-if-I-get-myself-a-big-ol’-glass-of-milk-and-send-myself-off-to-bed-for-12-hours-I’ll-feel-much-better type of tired.

It’s a dear-God-please-cancel-everything-I-can’t-get-out-of-bed-today type of tired.

It’s just an all-consuming, completely defeating, motivation swallowing tiredness.

Tired of working a job that makes you feel worthless.

Tired of leaving the house and having to face the world with about an inch of confidence.

Tired of spending time with those who will never understand.

Tired of feeling the same foggy way every. single. damn. day.

Tired of having to leave your bed.

Tired of feeling nothing towards anybody or anything.

Tired of being tired.

There’s no energy left to laugh or play. Every drop of motivation is sucked out of your body and you’re left exhausted.


Don’t get me wrong, there are good days or weeks and sometimes even months.

Days where you want to run around and experience life and cherish every second of it because lord knows that the desire to leave your house will be taken away eventually.

And again, you’re left tired.

Everyday is long.

Everybody else is happy.

Everywhere else on earth is more colorful.

And you want it to be a wonderful day

And you want to be someone who bleeds happiness

And you want to be somewhere beautiful

But you can’t.

….’cause you’re in bed.


So if you know someone who suffers from depression, don’t think it’s your fault or that it’s your heroic responsibility to drag their butt out of the house and slap a smile on that pale face.

We just want to feel understood.

If you know someone who suffers from depression, don’t assume something specific is causing this depression. Chances are they don’t even know why they feel this way.

We just want to feel understood.

And finally if you know someone who suffers from depression, go crawl into their bed with a plate of cookies right now and let them talk to you. No judgement. No advice. No demanding what made them feel this way.

Just let us feel understood and loved


I’m so sorry if you feel tired right now.

You have no idea how much I understand…

Bad days will come and let me tell ya… they’re gonna frickin’ suck

But it’ll get better of course because,

Every single bad day still has a sunset.

Every single bad day still has an end.

And I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a beautiful, beautiful day

And hey, maybe you won’t feel so tired anymore.

I know how much pain you’re in. I understand why you’ve made the bathroom floor your home and why you haven’t eaten anything besides cheez-its in over a week. I get it, Angel.

He hurt you.

Angel, I know you don’t want to pick yourself off the ground and limp back to the unforgiving world like nothing ever happened. I know this feels like the end for you.

Or at least you want it to be.

I know you had a panic attack last night that left you screaming and crying while throwing your pillow around the room while his words echoed mercilessly inside your head,

“I don’t love you anymore.”


And I know you’re still in love with him, Angel. I know you thought you were stronger than him.

I know your argument.

“It was 3am and we were laughing harder than my will could take and his blue eyes had never looked more lovely and his thoughts were for my ears only… And I was screwed.”

I’ve heard the things he’s said. I’ve sat in that bed and watched his perfect lips form promising words.

“It’s different with you.”

“You make me feel so comfortable.”

“I’ve never told anyone that.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

and other things that you know he hasn’t told another soul.

You thought you were different.

And maybe you were.

But maybe that 3am nonsense talk was just that… nonsense.

And maybe he wasn’t showing you broken, scattered pieces of his soul that were for your eyes only.

Maybe they were just words that were mindlessly said after a long, sleepless night.


You thought he’d stay.

I mean he promised, didn’t he?

You let your darkest thought slip out of your mouth and he was still able to find some small light.

He became your light, Angel.

But you need to become your own light.


Because we all say things we don’t mean. We all break promises.

We all get lost in the moment when someone is kissing our neck and we prematurely blurt out,

“I love you.”

We all do stupid things without thinking of the repercussions

We all run around on untouched, fresh snow. We all pick the prettiest flowers and then watch them wilt. We all wear and re-wear our favorite sweater until it tears at the seam.

Sometimes people don’t think, Angel. But that doesn’t mean they’re out to burn you.

Please, Angel, don’t start looking for that darkness in the world.


I know he chased away some really terrifying storms.

I know he said some really wonderful things.

And I know he’s really pretty

…but so are flowers.

Angel you shouldn’t be on the floor. And you shouldn’t grieve over a memory. Because at the end of the day, that’s all he is

…a memory.


I know it hurts right now. Worse than it ever has.

But you have to hold on, Angel

You have to strap your wings back on.

You have to be the stunning light that you are.

Because love will not be the thing that kills you.

That’s unacceptable.

Oh, and one last thing before I go, Angel,

Don’t you dare settle for anything less than heaven.

Love,

Someone Who Knows

I’m a koala.

I love attaching myself to people and never letting them go.

I love people.

And I love loving people.

I’ve learned that there’s a unique genre of people who get unavoidably attached incredibly easily.

I call these people koalas.

Because we’re the people who want to hug you and refuse to let go even when you squirm to get away.

We’ll keep loving the crap outta you.

Sorry ‘bout it.


There are beautiful traits and experiences that come with being koala

But there are also really heart wrenching lessons that we have to learn and those lessons will tear us apart more than any non-koala will ever understand.

Koalas have this amazing gift of opening up to anything with a heartbeat. Vulnerability is our second language because we’re addicted to making connections with people.

Koalas trust people easily because there is good in every soul, even if it looks pitch black. We’ll find the good.

However, trusting everyone can backfire. Sometimes we open up to the wrong people and put valuable information in their dirty hands. One of the first lessons a koala will learn is not everybody wants to see you flourish and overcome your trials.

Sometimes people steal your wings and then push you off the ledge while yelling, “Why aren’t you flying??”

Koalas don’t understand those people or how they can possibly find entertainment in watching others’ fail. But we still love those people, because we can’t help it.


So how do you know if you’re a koala? How do you spot a koala? Well I’ve noticed some shining traits that koalas have. Here are a few,

  1. Those people who seem to have about 357 “best friends” and who are always surrounded by a crowd

Example – “I have to buy Christmas gifts for my best friends Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, Ross, Joey, Gunther, Mike, Taylor, Kesha, Sara, Hunter, etc”

  1. Those people who keep old movie tickets and leave dead flowers in their room because they’re “sentimental” and make them think of someone they adore.

Example – I still have my ticket to a Hannah Montana concert I went to in 7th grade because I went with my best friend and I’m incapable of throwing it out.

  1. Those people who remember dates to the point where it’s abnormal.

Example – “Hey did you know that 5 years ago today you and I went to that one park right by your church and talked for hours about love, religion and our passions? HAPPY FRIENDIVERSARY.”

  1. Those people who open up like it’s their major.

Example – If you and I go on a coffee date I can honestly say that within a half hour, you will know my entire life story including the dark parts. I can’t control how much I share… it’s like word vomit.

  1. And finally those people who cherish the smallest acts of kindness by others.

Example – “Oh my gosh, you’re letting me come over into your lane despite all of this traffic? Can I buy you dinner sometime? How about flowers? How do you feel about love at first sight? I just really think we’d be forever friends….”


Does any of that sound like you? If so, congrats! You’ve got the most wonderful, heartbreaking, beautiful, naïve, loving, destructive, inspiring condition that a person can have!

So go out and throw your open heart at unsuspecting people

Maybe they’ll accept you.

Maybe they won’t.

But you’re a koala and no heart shattering experience will ever stop you from loving everything unconditionally.

And that’s quite an amazing trait to have.


So just keep being the adorable koala that you are

Because the world needs loving people like you to make connections and love like there’s no tomorrow.


I believe in you

and I love you.

-Becca Tremmel