After everything,

I feel lighter.

I'm still couch hopping, my parents are still split, I'm still picking up the pieces of a life twice shattered

But without you in it? Without the fear of you blaming me for everything? Without the fear of you hating me? Without worrying if you're okay? Without blaming myself for all the bullshit you put me through?

I feel fucking good.

I'm not carrying the burden of undeserved apologies from me and unreceived apologies from you.
I'm not carrying the burden of a failed relationship. Of someone who did nothing but take me for granted.

And if you're still reading my blog, like you probably are,

Stop.

You don't get to "check in on me" if you want us out of each other's lives. You don't have the right to care. To be concerned.

Deal with your own shit.

Leave me and mine alone.

I'm done. I'm done checking your shit. I'm done worrying about you. I'm done feeling guilty. I'm done feeling sorry. I'm done covering for the fucked up shit you did. I'm done making excuses for you.

You fucked up.

I'm not gonna sprint to your side at the sign of trouble anymore, like I know you'd expect me to. You'll swear up and down that you don't, but I know you fucking do because you think you know me. You think you have me on a string.

You don't.

You don't need a safety net, you said.

And I'm glad, because that shows growth as a person.

And because you won't find one in me.

Goodbye.
Maybe I'll see you again.
Maybe I won't.

I think I did it.

I saw you post a picture of him on your instagram.

And I didn't feel a god damn thing.

Fuck you.

You'd better hope he's dumber than me or the same shit's gonna happen to you.

Nothing's gonna change for you if you keep pulling this shit.

You're not a fucking victim. I'm not the bad guy in your fucking life. It's my turn to tell you to grow up.

You're not gonna grow without a safety net. Not until you hit the ground fucking hard and realize and accept that you fell because you tripped on your own foot.

I had to come to terms with that shit and now you do to.

Take some fucking accountability.

I didn't do shit to you.

Stay out of my head.

"I'm walking away now."

Funny, I thought you already did.

No.

Every fucking time.

Every fucking time I think I'm finally aking a step forward something happens to you. And that's no your fault, no, life happens and it's awful and I'm so glad that you're okay after you rolled your car and I'm sorry that you're losing your apartment. And yes, I mean it when I say "I'm here if you need me."

But every time I start to think about you a little less, you decide to tell me thar something has gone wrong with you.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
YOU DON'T OWE IT TO ME TO TELL ME THIS SHIT. I DON'T DESERVE TO KNOW ANYTHING.

You know DAMN FUCKING WELL that telling me you flipped your car or losing your apartment is gonna send me into a fucking panic and no it's not my problem but god damn it you know I don't work that way.

Every fucking time I start to step forward and I start to think that maybe I'm finally over you something sends me into a panic about how I don't know if you're okay and what's going on and how is she gonna blah blah blah blah blah

YOU blocked ME
I STOPPED messaging you. The last message I sent was asking you guys to stop using my Netflix over a month ago.
YOU don't want to be friends.
YOU don't want me in your life.

And that's fine.

But fucking act it.

I don't need to worry about your shit when my life is falling to pieces when I'm still picking up the pieces from the last time.

Make up your mind.
Keep me out of your life, or bring me back in.

But don't play this fucking in the middle game because I don't need this shit.

It's real.

I had my first "official" fight night.

It was totally unsanctioned and unsupervised, but we had our shit together, had our rule set, our refs, our medical equipment, etc.

I fought twice.

The first guy, I've wanted to kick the shit out of for a long time.

I made him tap within the first 45 seconds. Armbar.
I used those 45 seconds to walk him into the corner, land a couple body shots, and he took me to the ground which was his biggest mistake. He had a chance standing up, he has a lot of power. But he has no ground training.

My second fight, I went 3 rounds and it went to decision.
This guy, was probably the only guy I saw as a legitimate threat and challenge to me.
I thoroughly got my ass beat. He landed clean shots directly on my jaw at least 10 times throughout those 9 minutes, but I never even stumbled and kept coming after him. I almost had him submitted a couple times too.
I lost that decision.

I walked out of that with a mild concussion and a fractured middle knuckle on my right hand and got damn was I fucking excited to be dizzy and slurring my words and vomiting because god damn it now it's official.

This is what I want to do with my life. I know for certain now.

This is my dream.

And I'm taking it to the top of the world.