This. Omg this. I had felt like nothing for years. FOREVER. I had given up on that beautiful, brilliant girl overflowing with potential and settled for being a mediocre mom til the baby’s 18th, after which I would find oblivion.

Then he found me. Again. I had waited 25 years for him to find me, and of course given up hope that he would even look and there he was.

And for half a year he flew me all over and we made love and he earned my complete trust and I shared my entire being with him.

Because he was Jeff Spradling, for God’s sake.

He had been the FIRST.

I believed him. I believed in him. I believed I knew him.

When he called me beautiful and asked me where we should grow old together and made me promise that, even though I had sworn off marriage, I would never, ever leave him…when he told me I was all he needed…when he said I was fucking brilliant and he didn’t know how he had made it this far without me…without us being one…

When he said I should write, because he was picky and yet, when I wrote he felt compelled to read and was left wanting more…

When he said and did so many things that gave me the courage to believe in myself again…

And then I found out that HE NEVER EXISTED. I WAS A GAME. I WAS PLAYTIME. HE WAS GONE AND WHEN WE DID HAPPEN TO SPEAK, he spoke as if we didn’t know each other at all…




I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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