a brief history of why i'm basically taylor swift

5:39 AM

3.13.2018




First, there was the Unicorn.
Then there was D.
Then the Husband.
And then there was Red.
And those are who matter.
Those are who "define" Jordan.
I guess I could count Natharon, but that was more a rite of passage...
And I feel okay using his real name because that may not even be his real name and I doubt he even will ever see this.
The others may, so I have to be safe.
Though if you know me you know who at least 3 of the 4 are.
I don't talk about 4.
Don't ask me about Red.
I won't answer.
It was bad and bad and manipulative and awful.
Bad bad bad bad bad.

I won't talk about Red.
I'll write about Red vaguely, but don't ask me again, ever.

This is all you'll get.

The Unicorn was good to me, still is. He is someone I hold in the highest regard and someone I probably will compare everyone else to in some roundabout way. He is dear. He was my first love, even if I didn't know what love was. He will always be my friend, even if we never speak again.

D was good for me and bad for me at the same time. If you ask him, I saved his life. I value him, though sometimes I still struggle with the past and where I would be if I'd just been a doormat for one more month. Though I cannot dwell because truthfully I think things worked out for the best for both parties in that situation.

Husband was husband and as horrible as this sounds, he left the smallest imprint on my life. I think he loved me a lot, and I think I loved him a lot, but it was never meant to be and I think we would both agree to that. I'd wave at him if I saw him, he may flip me off. I always wonder how that moment will go when inevitably it comes. I don't care, but I still hope he doesn't hate me. I don't hate him. I actually thank him every day for divorcing me because at least he didn't pretend and drag it out.

Like Red did. That's all.
Bad bad bad bad bad.
Don't ask me about Red.
I've never been more myself or less of myself than I was with Red, and that is surprising, given the fact that it's too painful to discuss to anyone, but for anyone that knows, it wrecked me and I still haven't fully regained my footing from the complete sociopathic tendencies I was fed on a daily basis from Red.
I guess I needed to talk a little about Red.
Red for Red flag. Red wall. Red shirt. Red like love and Red like blood.
I'm done talking about Red.

Briefly, there was Squared. I think I leaped before I looked there, and it was probably a good thing.

And now I'm here, debating someone that I've been agonizing over for several months, took the plunge and now wondering if that was the best choice? I'm fine. I'm over the Red thing, and I think I can be myself. I think I can be strong and vibrant and loving again, but I'll tell you this, I will not take any bullshit and that's a fact. But I also hate the feeling of waiting, even if good things are supposed to come to those who do. Who the fuck decided that? Honesty. That's a word I was told meant something. So why is it that being honest makes you vulnerable and that is so often viewed as a bad thing? Or a scary thing? Or "too much"?

I can't answer that. But I'm going to give Ringo a shot if I can, I owe that to myself.

And if it blows up, I'll write another fucking book.

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sup fool.

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