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.

~One Month Before “The Break”~

 

We were so close.

Lying together in that same bed.

But I had never felt further away from you.

“Please, just tell me what to do.” you panicked.

“I think I’m having an anxiety attack, babe. Tell me how to make this better.”

You pleaded breathlessly.

I was facing away from you on the other side of the bed.

Letting my fingers dig into your blue comforter as I sighed with a hint of annoyance.

“Just… breathe.”

Your breath shallowed and I heard whimpering for the next 15 minutes.

Then silence.

A sensation of overwhelming guilt flooded over my body like a blanket that threatened to suffocate me.

I was in no place to help you.

But I felt a more powerful feeling than even guilt in that particular moment.

Unwavering anger.

I was pissed.

Pissed that you had broken my trust a month prior.

Pissed that I felt on edge with every girl you shook hands with.

Pissed that I was so pissed.

I wanted to love you unconditionally and hold you close and help you steady your breathing and tell you over and over and over again how wonderful and talented you are.

How incredibly special you are to me

But I didn’t.

Instead,

I fell asleep.

And that hideous memory is seared into the back of my mind.

I have never been more ashamed of myself or my actions than in that moment.

For someone who preaches constantly about love, understanding, patience and forgiveness,

I was being cruel.

The visual of us lying there while I cold heartedly held my pride instead of you rarely leaves my conscience.

I am so sorry.

I will always be sorry.

 

~ One week before “The Break”~

 

We drove in your car and got hopelessly lost on the backroads around your new house.

We were laughing and singing “Tear in My Heart” to each other after discovering an adorable French restaurant near your new home.

I was still broken.

We were still broken.

But drop by drop I was feeling the blind rage leave my body,

Slowly but surely

I began to think to myself,

Maybe if I just say something new, something really emotional and future-oriented, he’ll feel special and loved by me once again.

Maybe that will be what fixes us.

Looking back on that impulsive thought, I should’ve put much more intentionality into what I said next,

“I think you may be the love of my life.” I blurted out.

Because I now know that I said it out of fear of losing you rather than actually meaning it.

“I could really see forever with you.” I pushed further.

Silence.

Wide-eyed

Panicked

Agonizing

Silence.

Oh. Shit.

Wow um… babe… that’s… really sweet of you to.. err… say.”

We were still endlessly lost and looking for your house.

And in that moment, I realized we were on a dead end road.

 

~The Break~

 

We sat parked in my driveway for 6 minutes before you answered my question.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” I begged.

“I have a horrible pit in my stomach and I know something’s wrong.” I kept pushing.

I was always pushing.

“Whenever I feel the pit… something is always wrong…” My words trailed off as I gave you time to respond.

6 minutes of silence.

“I just don’t think this is really working.” you half-whispered.

Ouch.

“Okay… why do you feel that way?” I said, already knowing the answer.

“Because it’s just not.” you snapped.

You took a deep breath, squeezed the steering wheel, and let your eyes drop to the floor.

“Maybe we need a… break?” you said, admitting defeat.

Tears streamed down my face.

I never believed that you would actually give up on me.

I never thought I’d live to see that mortifying moment.

“If that’s how you feel. How long would this.. um…”

I choked

“… break be?”

You paused for a second and cocked your head to the side while looking out the windshield.

“Well… how does two weeks sound?”

I wiped my cheeks and quickly opened your car door.

“Okay, sounds great. Talk to you then.” I panicked.

I shut your car door and started running towards my house

Because falling a part on my driveway didn’t seem so… nonchalant.

And my pride begged me to come off nonchalant.

“Wait, babe.”

You had gotten out of your car and you looked so helpless with those arms falling so heavy against your sides.

“What does this mean?”

Your voice cracked.

I stood there frozen.

And we just stared at each other.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to run back into your arms and beg for you to forgive my daily angry outbursts.

Or if you wanted me to just cut the chord right then and there so we wouldn’t have to have this conversation a second time.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know.”

And I turned around and walked into my house.

That definitely wasn’t the right response.

I slid onto the floor and felt the weight of a two ton truck sitting on my chest squeezing every last bit of oxygen out of my lungs.

After a few minutes past,

Your car door shut .

And then you were gone.

 

~The Breakup~

 

Sitting on my front porch, I contemplated what I was about to say to you;

How I was going to beg for your forgiveness,

How I was going to give you the 14 letters I had written to you everyday while we hadn’t spoken,

How I was going to ask for my favorite pair of shoes back.

I went over every possible conversation we could have

And how I was going to finally swallow my pride for the first time in my life

And just desperately ask you to stay and work on this with me.

I could do it.

Probably.

I looked down at my phone to check the time.

4:50pm

You’d be here in 10 minutes.

My eyes looked at the sky and I finally just started praying.

I prayed for wisdom and for overwhelming peace with whatever decision we would make together.

I prayed for you to feel respected, loved and understood during this conversation we were about to have.

I prayed for God to just take control of everything and to just give me the words I needed to say in order to successfully make it through this talk.

Then I thanked Him for bringing us together.

Because despite what was about to happen,

I was completely in love with you.

And you were the best boyfriend I ever had.

And that was definitely something to be thankful for.


Your jeep pulled into the driveway.

The car door opened and I saw your face for the first time in two weeks.

You shaved.

Our eyes met briefly before they fell to the ground and you began walking on my lawn towards my front steps.

My heart tumbled into my stomach and I crossed my arms so you wouldn’t see how badly my hands were shaking.

“Hi there.” I said nervously, as you walked up.

Crap, I hope that sounded confident.

You stopped a few feet away from me and stared at me curled up on the steps.

Hands buried deep in your pockets.

“Hey.”


 

 

*Part 2 will be posted on July 12th*

Thank you for reading,

Becca Tremmel

 

Facebook –  Becca Tremmel 

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @littlelionbecca

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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#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 ❤

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

 

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

 

 

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