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A Story That Can’t Be Told

A Story That Can’t Be Told

If I close my eyes I can bring myself back to the moment.

The “is this really happening?!” tingly feeling. The moment I have waited so long for. It’s here. In front of me. One opportunity. Risk my entire life and go for it? Yes, of course. Do it.

The butterflies.

The idea that what I once thought was a dream, was reality.

Me. Isabella. There, with him, on an experience. An adventure of a lifetime.

Music. Sounds. Lights. Bus. Audio. Beers. Pizza. Weed. Portapotty. Bunk beds. Macbooks. iPhones. Old iPhones.

Your sweatpants.

My bag filled with everything and anything – I didn’t know how long I would be gone for.

It was a thrill. It was everything I could have imagined. It was so much more than I expected.

Honesty. Genuine. Teaching me to not be afraid. Helping me process the fact that men are not the enemies.

Realizing with you that my marriage was destructive. I was unhappy. I Needed to get out. I needed to hear it, from you.

Mentoring me – “Isabella, you have a dream. Go after it” … “Ok. I promise you I will.”

“You can be an actress. YOU CAN MOVE TO LA. If anyone can do it, it is YOU”

You’ve known me for years… but never like this.

I opened up to you. In a short time frame. We didn’t need much time. You saw through me.

Scared, stuck, scared, stuck.

Untangle me. Unwrap me. Help me put my life into perspective. Push me.

You did.

We Talked about so many things. So many random topics. We talked about surfing, we talked about LA, we talked about you, we talked a lot about me.

I was high. You were not. You loved how random my thoughts were. How sporadic and funny I was. We laughed. I cried.

You were patient with me, only 22 years old. You were careful.

You believed in me when I did not believe in myself. Only one life to live, right?

Plane ride. It’s done. The moment passed. The memory stays forever. Longer than that. I still remember your words. I still remember the Apple Cidar. I remember the jokes, the fun, the laughter. I think we talked about aliens.

When the movement stops, it must mean someone is going number 2. That was funny. It still makes me giggle. Fun facts.

I can’t say that I miss you, because I don’t. I can’t say that I wish it turned into anything more, because that wasn’t our path. You were my friend. You talked sense into me.

I am where I am in this exact moment because of you. In Los Angeles like we talked about. Living, loving, laughing, working, determined and motivated as ever. I know you’re proud of me. Frankly, I am proud of you, too.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for taking me under your wing. Thank you for your words of wisdom. Fucking thank you for changing my life. Thank you for helping me see that I needed to leave him, I needed to leave the town that confined me. I needed California. I needed to be Isabella.

I hope you are okay. I hope you are happy. I wish nothing more for you than health, happiness, and peace. I really though, can’t thank you enough. I am who I am and I am where I am – because of you. Because of you.

Thank you.

– I can’t tell you the story because I promised not to. But, I had to say something. Anything. Say anything, right?

Sincerely,

The Girl You Helped Transform Into A Woman (with a badass mindset)

I’ll keep my ears open to hear you sing.



This post first appeared on The Bella Step, please read the originial post: here

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A Story That Can’t Be Told

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