by on

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

 

 

by on

“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.

by on

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