December 24, 2021 • 19 mins
In this installment of SMNTY fiction, we spin a modern fairy tale of heartbreak and the ghost of memories after a haunting loss.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:05):
Hey, this is Andy and Samantha and welcome to stuff.
I never told you a production of I Heart Radio.
It is time for another edition of Sminty Fiction. As always,
do not panic if this is not your thing. UM,
(00:26):
just something we're doing. What's a month or so um
where we do a traumatic reading. Yeah. I like to
think it's a traumatic reading um with the soundscaping of
our amazing super producer Christina, who deserves all of the
recognition and props because she makes these sounds so good.
She she really really does yes in a good way.
(00:49):
And this one has no real chugger warning. But it's
a little sad, I guess. So if you're tender emotionally
for whatever reason, maybe not for you, I think it
will be fine. I think it's kind of goofy honestly,
but you know, And as always a disclaimer. I wrote
this for an idea me and my ex had where
we were going to have five people to submit ideas
(01:12):
for a music video of one song and play all
of the film submissions at once simultaneously on different screens
in the same room, so you could like look at
all the different screens playing and see all these different
interpretations of this one song. We got the idea from
a museum exhibit we really liked, so I wrote this
um but yeah, it's not super refined or edited or anything. Also,
(01:36):
a lot of these were written with the intent of
being simple in mind, so it's like a single narrator,
which is sad because I want Samantham to be more
involved in these. I should give you the next one.
It should be you. I would love it. I would
love it. Speaking of different interpretations, that would be great.
(02:00):
I just do my own interpretation of it all. Yes,
I would love it. I would love it. And yes,
I did want to release this one as it comes
at as Christmas Eve, because we are in the midst
of cuffing season, which is a term I originally learned
from you someone else that yesterday, yes, which it is
essentially what like dating time. Essentially you want to be
(02:22):
cuffed or snuggled up with someone because it is cold
and it's the holiday, right, Okay, okay, And I did
just I also just learned about dating terms like situation ships,
which is quote a romantic or sexual relationship that is
not considered to be formal or established, and roaching, meaning
someone is sleeping around with a lot of people while
(02:43):
in a relationship. Roaching is new. Yeah, well I'm learning
new terms all the time. When it comes in the
dating world, I actually want to I want to come
back to that and do like a kind of terminology
update about these things and what isn't Yes exactly, but
that is four later. For now, please sit back, relax,
(03:07):
and enjoy this fiction called the Right to be forgotten.
There once was a man named Will, and Will was
in love. Her name was Hannah. Will and Hannah were perfect.
They adored each other, the kind of love that is
(03:28):
pure and fun and steady and unyielding and beautiful, the
kind that makes people jealous. They took goofy pictures together
and went on adventures and stayed in and knew each
other truly, heart and soul complete. There was no Will
without Hannah. They got married in a blur of bright,
(03:51):
bright happiness. He remembered thinking wildly it was impossible to
feel this happy, and that he was worthy of it,
and they were going to live happily ever after. But
they didn't. Then Hannah was gone, and Will's world was shattered.
(04:12):
All meaning was lost. Nothing made sense without Hannah. There
was no point without Hannah. Tears, a bone deep grief
and an unending well of physical aching loss, Sitting aimlessly, staring, staring,
staring at a picture of them together, so wonderfully, willing
to be silly around each other, so happy, so complete.
(04:36):
It was night. He'd woken up suddenly, gasping a handover
his racing heart, dreaming of Hannah that he was screaming
for her to come back, but she couldn't hear him.
He blinked away the image, eyes adjusting to the dark. Nothing,
always nothing. He was alone. He sat up slowly, the
(04:59):
familiar cocoon of grief in casing him. He got up,
went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of water,
gulping it down. A picture of the two of them, blissful, unknowing,
smiled back at him. Then his skin started to prickle.
Cold crept up his spine. Behind him, a woman set
(05:22):
up in the bed, a woman who had not been there,
who could not be there. It was Hannah. She looked
the same, but different, hazy around the edges, soft focus.
She watched him, solemn still. She was wearing her favorite pajamas,
(05:43):
bright suns and stars and moons that clashed with her
serious expression. Will turned, he stared in her direction, set
his glass down, slowly made his way over to her.
Sat on the bed next to her, hid his face
in his hands, hid the tears streaming down his cheeks,
(06:04):
tears that should be impossible, with how much he cried
in the past days, weeks, months. When he opened his eyes,
the woman was gone. He laid down and pulled the
covers around him and laid awake until the light turned
purple and blue, and the sun rose, and he rose
with it to face another meaningless day. The toaster dinged.
(06:28):
Hannah was waiting in the kitchen, smiling. Will blinked once twice,
reached into the cabinet, retrieving a jar of peanut butter.
He started slathering on his toast and m haze. Autopilot,
a zombie as he had been since he lost Hannah,
and a creator was left in his soul. Be stirring.
(06:48):
The jar knocked over. Will jumped at the sound, staring
at the overturned jar warily, he reached the upright it,
so did Hannah. Their hands almost touched, but Hannah pulled
away at the last second. Will ignored her, Tired of
the fathomless grief, she brought unwilling and unable to face her,
(07:13):
but he'd never been good at ignoring her, and she'd
always been persistent. He was sitting in traffic listening to
a voicemail from his boss. Take your time, We understand,
she says, though Will knows they don't. He hangs up
none again, all the sound around him falling away in
(07:35):
its shadow. Next to his ear, a woman laughed. He jerked,
looking around, afraid of what he'd see and what he wouldn't,
but there was no one. After a long moment, he
brought his frantic breathing under control and turned back to
(07:55):
the road. Tense. No one was there, he told himself.
He sat at his desk, feeling fake, incorporeal, as though
he might fade from existence at any second. A coworker approached,
her eyes shining with compassion that could not penetrate the
sheaths of sadness around him. How are you, she asked.
(08:20):
He didn't respond, and after a moment she left. He
turned back to his laptop, eyes burning, throat tight, so
utterly dead inside, and wondering if it might be better
to be dead outside too. An image of Hannah pops
up in his social media feed. Smiling happy, he snaffed
(08:40):
the lid of his laptop shut. He stands abruptly his chair,
rolling away loud in the quiet space. He left his
steps quick, imagining Hannah was right behind him, the weight
of her gaze unbearable. He drives home, turning up the
radio as loud as it will go, a spirit to
drown everything out, to drown her out. The song is
(09:05):
so loud he can barely hear his own voice as
he joins in, builting out the lyrics. Determined to feel
something else, to think of anything else, or not think
at all, to prove to himself that he could be happy.
He glanced at the passenger side, and Hannah was there,
shouting the words along with him. His heart stuttered to
(09:28):
a stop, and he jerked the wheel, another driver honking
at him. He swallowed, tamping back his panic. Ramrod still
determined not to look back at the passenger seat, even
though it took everything he had not to. When he
got home, he shakily opened his laptop, navigating to the
pictures folder. He delanned, leading them with self destructive impulsivity,
(09:50):
determined to erase her from his life. Hannah watched him
from the door her arms crossed. He refused to look
at her. She pushed herself off the frame, slowly taking
the seat next to him. He tensed, but did not turn.
Tears burned in his eyes. Hannah's pixelated face stared back
at him, her usual blinding smile, almost obscured by the
(10:13):
gray notification, asking him if he was sure he wanted
to permanently delete these items. He hovered the mouse over
the image indecisively as Hannah watched. He closed out of
the notification, breathing raggett. He called his best friend, Overcome
with desperation, he hesitated, heart racing before he said, I've
(10:34):
been seeing her Annah. His friend was clearly taken aback where,
he asked, everywhere? Little whispered in my apartment, my office,
my car, my bed, like a ghost or something. His
friend asked. Will didn't respond, He couldn't, and the words
(10:56):
hung dead between them. His friends said he was worried
about him, that loss can mess with people. Asked if
he was okay. He wasn't okay. Hannah was gone, of course,
he wasn't okay. He was eating take out, mindlessly, watching
something on TV, something he'd never seen before, but didn't
(11:18):
care about. So as not to trigger any memories of Hannah,
but she was there anyway. She was at his side,
standing over him, shouting, muffled, distorted. He turned the volume up.
The next morning, he woke out of a restless sleep
to the sound of water running the shower. He realized
(11:38):
after a moment dread and anticipation gripped him, and, as
if in a dream, he stood and slowly made his
way to the bathroom, heart drumming in his ears. As
he got closer, he could hear a woman humming. He
held his breath as he gently pushed the bathroom door open.
Through the shower curtain, he saw the of the wet
(12:00):
of a woman. He jerked away, leaning heavily against the sink,
heart galloping panting. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a
slow breath, then another. The humming cut off abruptly as
to the sound of running water. Still, he kept his
eyes shut for a long moment before he had the
courage to open them. The woman was gone. She was gone.
(12:27):
That should be a relief, right then, why did he
feel such monumental loss. His whole body trembled as he
turned back to the sink. His eyes landed on a
glass with two toothbrushes in them. Suddenly he picked one
up and threw it away. Will softly drank his beer.
(12:51):
It was night and he was cooking. Music played. The
tears in his eyes made the light bow too bright
and too blurry. He saw her and smiled. She was
laughing and joking and dancing like they used to. But
she's not real, he told himself, She's not real. The song,
(13:15):
soft at first, gets louder and at him. That night,
he couldn't sleep. Hannah wasn't there. He unlocked his phone,
the blue light garish in the dark. He was crying again,
but he almost didn't notice. He shook when he opened
the video he'd been avoiding ever since. His life was
(13:36):
torn asunder. The sight of her, shining, happy, laughing, twirling
around in a wedding dress brought a gas to his lips.
Fairy lights illuminate her in the dark. Will sobbed at
the soothing sounds of her life that were now like
a knife, ripping him apart and exposing him. Her smile,
(13:57):
her happiness, a condemnation. Another man stepped into frame, beaming
at her, hugging her to him. Will's heart stuttered dropped.
They were in love. Hannah had moved on and found
love with another man. People crowded them, laughing, smiling, the
(14:18):
music soft and sweet. They looked at each other. They'll
look in her eyes, the same look she used to
fix on Will, as though she really saw him and
saw the good in him, the value, and loved him,
cared for him, and she had. But now she had
moved on to another person, and Will was alone, with
only the ghost of her memories like a haunting, keeping
(14:41):
him from moving on. She'll fade, people told him. But
Will didn't want her to fade. There was no Will
without Hannah. He was a fragment without her. The ghost
of her would haunt him forever. Any time he laughed
or cried, or drink that beer that she loved, watched
that movie that made her laugh, or sat on their couch,
(15:03):
or did or felt anything because they did everything, experienced
everything together. But at least the ghost of her was
better than not having her in his life at all.
(15:42):
That brings us to the end of this fiction portion.
I know you're probably mad. I know you're probably mad
at the ending. I like to call this in the
reverse six cents. Oh yep. The name comes from this
legal push from a few years ago where a man
was suing companies like Google for the quote right to
be forgotten, and it's become somewhat of a term in
(16:03):
regards the Internet and data collection. In this whole idea
of the right to be forgotten are to know what
data is being collected and to have control over it.
And again, I don't know why, but I really like
applying these technical terms to human nature. Other titles were
The Ghost of You in a Modern Day fairy Tale,
but this one has also been on my mind because
(16:25):
I've been thinking about the power of breakup stories and
how a breakup can really wreck you in your life.
And I just like all those things where you see
pieces of the other person everywhere, if the life you
had everywhere, all the things and items and places that
remind you of times you spent together. I don't know,
it's just it feels like a ghost to me. It
(16:46):
feels like something hanging over, like it's always there um
whether you want it to be or not. And I've
also been thinking because we were talking about this year
has been called the Year of the Breakup album with
Taylor Swift and Adele dominating the chichs, and you and
I have talked before about you know, ending up in
someone else's song or yes, things like that, and I don't.
(17:13):
It's strange to me that these x is I have
in my life where I'm so convinced it's a good
thing we broke up still have this. I don't know
if it's power, but I still think, Oh, I wonder
what they would think if they knew I were talking
about them, or I wonder what they would think about
my conversations now about how I think relationships should look,
(17:34):
or else. Actually, like all of these things, it just
amazes me. It makes sense if you spend so much
time with someone, you make these memories with people, and
perhaps the part of you thinks you know it's forever,
and then it's not, and but it is. I'll just
catch myself thinking, why do I care what he thinks?
(17:56):
Right right? M hmm, I have? And it cracks me
up that I've had like the most stereotypical breakup story
that you can imagine, with the ice cream and the
crying and the cookies and all of this stuff. And
I never would have thought it would have been like that,
and then it would have lasted as long as it did.
Because it did. Yeah, so Merry Christmas. Say Merry Christmas,
(18:22):
get your suckle box of cookies and yes, yes do
whatever you know pikes. You happy is healthy for you
self care wise. We are so thrilled to have you
as a listener or all of you, so thank you
as always if you would like to contact us, and
you can our email as steffidium Mom and stuff at
I hurt me dot com. You can find us on
(18:44):
Twitter at moms podcast, or on Instagram and stuff I've
Never Told you. Thanks as always to our super producer
Christina making it all happen, yes, and thanks to you
for listening Stuff I Never Told The production of I
Heart Radio. For more podcast on my Heart Radio, is
it the Eye Heartdio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you
listen to your favorite shows. H
Hey, this is Andy and Samantha and welcome to stuff.
I never told you a production of I Heart Radio.
It is time for another edition of Sminty Fiction. As always,
do not panic if this is not your thing. UM,
(00:26):
just something we're doing. What's a month or so um
where we do a traumatic reading. Yeah. I like to
think it's a traumatic reading um with the soundscaping of
our amazing super producer Christina, who deserves all of the
recognition and props because she makes these sounds so good.
She she really really does yes in a good way.
(00:49):
And this one has no real chugger warning. But it's
a little sad, I guess. So if you're tender emotionally
for whatever reason, maybe not for you, I think it
will be fine. I think it's kind of goofy honestly,
but you know, And as always a disclaimer. I wrote
this for an idea me and my ex had where
we were going to have five people to submit ideas
(01:12):
for a music video of one song and play all
of the film submissions at once simultaneously on different screens
in the same room, so you could like look at
all the different screens playing and see all these different
interpretations of this one song. We got the idea from
a museum exhibit we really liked, so I wrote this
um but yeah, it's not super refined or edited or anything. Also,
(01:36):
a lot of these were written with the intent of
being simple in mind, so it's like a single narrator,
which is sad because I want Samantham to be more
involved in these. I should give you the next one.
It should be you. I would love it. I would
love it. Speaking of different interpretations, that would be great.
(02:00):
I just do my own interpretation of it all. Yes,
I would love it. I would love it. And yes,
I did want to release this one as it comes
at as Christmas Eve, because we are in the midst
of cuffing season, which is a term I originally learned
from you someone else that yesterday, yes, which it is
essentially what like dating time. Essentially you want to be
(02:22):
cuffed or snuggled up with someone because it is cold
and it's the holiday, right, Okay, okay, And I did
just I also just learned about dating terms like situation ships,
which is quote a romantic or sexual relationship that is
not considered to be formal or established, and roaching, meaning
someone is sleeping around with a lot of people while
(02:43):
in a relationship. Roaching is new. Yeah, well I'm learning
new terms all the time. When it comes in the
dating world, I actually want to I want to come
back to that and do like a kind of terminology
update about these things and what isn't Yes exactly, but
that is four later. For now, please sit back, relax,
(03:07):
and enjoy this fiction called the Right to be forgotten.
There once was a man named Will, and Will was
in love. Her name was Hannah. Will and Hannah were perfect.
They adored each other, the kind of love that is
(03:28):
pure and fun and steady and unyielding and beautiful, the
kind that makes people jealous. They took goofy pictures together
and went on adventures and stayed in and knew each
other truly, heart and soul complete. There was no Will
without Hannah. They got married in a blur of bright,
(03:51):
bright happiness. He remembered thinking wildly it was impossible to
feel this happy, and that he was worthy of it,
and they were going to live happily ever after. But
they didn't. Then Hannah was gone, and Will's world was shattered.
(04:12):
All meaning was lost. Nothing made sense without Hannah. There
was no point without Hannah. Tears, a bone deep grief
and an unending well of physical aching loss, Sitting aimlessly, staring, staring,
staring at a picture of them together, so wonderfully, willing
to be silly around each other, so happy, so complete.
(04:36):
It was night. He'd woken up suddenly, gasping a handover
his racing heart, dreaming of Hannah that he was screaming
for her to come back, but she couldn't hear him.
He blinked away the image, eyes adjusting to the dark. Nothing,
always nothing. He was alone. He sat up slowly, the
(04:59):
familiar cocoon of grief in casing him. He got up,
went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of water,
gulping it down. A picture of the two of them, blissful, unknowing,
smiled back at him. Then his skin started to prickle.
Cold crept up his spine. Behind him, a woman set
(05:22):
up in the bed, a woman who had not been there,
who could not be there. It was Hannah. She looked
the same, but different, hazy around the edges, soft focus.
She watched him, solemn still. She was wearing her favorite pajamas,
(05:43):
bright suns and stars and moons that clashed with her
serious expression. Will turned, he stared in her direction, set
his glass down, slowly made his way over to her.
Sat on the bed next to her, hid his face
in his hands, hid the tears streaming down his cheeks,
(06:04):
tears that should be impossible, with how much he cried
in the past days, weeks, months. When he opened his eyes,
the woman was gone. He laid down and pulled the
covers around him and laid awake until the light turned
purple and blue, and the sun rose, and he rose
with it to face another meaningless day. The toaster dinged.
(06:28):
Hannah was waiting in the kitchen, smiling. Will blinked once twice,
reached into the cabinet, retrieving a jar of peanut butter.
He started slathering on his toast and m haze. Autopilot,
a zombie as he had been since he lost Hannah,
and a creator was left in his soul. Be stirring.
(06:48):
The jar knocked over. Will jumped at the sound, staring
at the overturned jar warily, he reached the upright it,
so did Hannah. Their hands almost touched, but Hannah pulled
away at the last second. Will ignored her, Tired of
the fathomless grief, she brought unwilling and unable to face her,
(07:13):
but he'd never been good at ignoring her, and she'd
always been persistent. He was sitting in traffic listening to
a voicemail from his boss. Take your time, We understand,
she says, though Will knows they don't. He hangs up
none again, all the sound around him falling away in
(07:35):
its shadow. Next to his ear, a woman laughed. He jerked,
looking around, afraid of what he'd see and what he wouldn't,
but there was no one. After a long moment, he
brought his frantic breathing under control and turned back to
(07:55):
the road. Tense. No one was there, he told himself.
He sat at his desk, feeling fake, incorporeal, as though
he might fade from existence at any second. A coworker approached,
her eyes shining with compassion that could not penetrate the
sheaths of sadness around him. How are you, she asked.
(08:20):
He didn't respond, and after a moment she left. He
turned back to his laptop, eyes burning, throat tight, so
utterly dead inside, and wondering if it might be better
to be dead outside too. An image of Hannah pops
up in his social media feed. Smiling happy, he snaffed
(08:40):
the lid of his laptop shut. He stands abruptly his chair,
rolling away loud in the quiet space. He left his
steps quick, imagining Hannah was right behind him, the weight
of her gaze unbearable. He drives home, turning up the
radio as loud as it will go, a spirit to
drown everything out, to drown her out. The song is
(09:05):
so loud he can barely hear his own voice as
he joins in, builting out the lyrics. Determined to feel
something else, to think of anything else, or not think
at all, to prove to himself that he could be happy.
He glanced at the passenger side, and Hannah was there,
shouting the words along with him. His heart stuttered to
(09:28):
a stop, and he jerked the wheel, another driver honking
at him. He swallowed, tamping back his panic. Ramrod still
determined not to look back at the passenger seat, even
though it took everything he had not to. When he
got home, he shakily opened his laptop, navigating to the
pictures folder. He delanned, leading them with self destructive impulsivity,
(09:50):
determined to erase her from his life. Hannah watched him
from the door her arms crossed. He refused to look
at her. She pushed herself off the frame, slowly taking
the seat next to him. He tensed, but did not turn.
Tears burned in his eyes. Hannah's pixelated face stared back
at him, her usual blinding smile, almost obscured by the
(10:13):
gray notification, asking him if he was sure he wanted
to permanently delete these items. He hovered the mouse over
the image indecisively as Hannah watched. He closed out of
the notification, breathing raggett. He called his best friend, Overcome
with desperation, he hesitated, heart racing before he said, I've
(10:34):
been seeing her Annah. His friend was clearly taken aback where,
he asked, everywhere? Little whispered in my apartment, my office,
my car, my bed, like a ghost or something. His
friend asked. Will didn't respond, He couldn't, and the words
(10:56):
hung dead between them. His friends said he was worried
about him, that loss can mess with people. Asked if
he was okay. He wasn't okay. Hannah was gone, of course,
he wasn't okay. He was eating take out, mindlessly, watching
something on TV, something he'd never seen before, but didn't
(11:18):
care about. So as not to trigger any memories of Hannah,
but she was there anyway. She was at his side,
standing over him, shouting, muffled, distorted. He turned the volume up.
The next morning, he woke out of a restless sleep
to the sound of water running the shower. He realized
(11:38):
after a moment dread and anticipation gripped him, and, as
if in a dream, he stood and slowly made his
way to the bathroom, heart drumming in his ears. As
he got closer, he could hear a woman humming. He
held his breath as he gently pushed the bathroom door open.
Through the shower curtain, he saw the of the wet
(12:00):
of a woman. He jerked away, leaning heavily against the sink,
heart galloping panting. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a
slow breath, then another. The humming cut off abruptly as
to the sound of running water. Still, he kept his
eyes shut for a long moment before he had the
courage to open them. The woman was gone. She was gone.
(12:27):
That should be a relief, right then, why did he
feel such monumental loss. His whole body trembled as he
turned back to the sink. His eyes landed on a
glass with two toothbrushes in them. Suddenly he picked one
up and threw it away. Will softly drank his beer.
(12:51):
It was night and he was cooking. Music played. The
tears in his eyes made the light bow too bright
and too blurry. He saw her and smiled. She was
laughing and joking and dancing like they used to. But
she's not real, he told himself, She's not real. The song,
(13:15):
soft at first, gets louder and at him. That night,
he couldn't sleep. Hannah wasn't there. He unlocked his phone,
the blue light garish in the dark. He was crying again,
but he almost didn't notice. He shook when he opened
the video he'd been avoiding ever since. His life was
(13:36):
torn asunder. The sight of her, shining, happy, laughing, twirling
around in a wedding dress brought a gas to his lips.
Fairy lights illuminate her in the dark. Will sobbed at
the soothing sounds of her life that were now like
a knife, ripping him apart and exposing him. Her smile,
(13:57):
her happiness, a condemnation. Another man stepped into frame, beaming
at her, hugging her to him. Will's heart stuttered dropped.
They were in love. Hannah had moved on and found
love with another man. People crowded them, laughing, smiling, the
(14:18):
music soft and sweet. They looked at each other. They'll
look in her eyes, the same look she used to
fix on Will, as though she really saw him and
saw the good in him, the value, and loved him,
cared for him, and she had. But now she had
moved on to another person, and Will was alone, with
only the ghost of her memories like a haunting, keeping
(14:41):
him from moving on. She'll fade, people told him. But
Will didn't want her to fade. There was no Will
without Hannah. He was a fragment without her. The ghost
of her would haunt him forever. Any time he laughed
or cried, or drink that beer that she loved, watched
that movie that made her laugh, or sat on their couch,
(15:03):
or did or felt anything because they did everything, experienced
everything together. But at least the ghost of her was
better than not having her in his life at all.
(15:42):
That brings us to the end of this fiction portion.
I know you're probably mad. I know you're probably mad
at the ending. I like to call this in the
reverse six cents. Oh yep. The name comes from this
legal push from a few years ago where a man
was suing companies like Google for the quote right to
be forgotten, and it's become somewhat of a term in
(16:03):
regards the Internet and data collection. In this whole idea
of the right to be forgotten are to know what
data is being collected and to have control over it.
And again, I don't know why, but I really like
applying these technical terms to human nature. Other titles were
The Ghost of You in a Modern Day fairy Tale,
but this one has also been on my mind because
(16:25):
I've been thinking about the power of breakup stories and
how a breakup can really wreck you in your life.
And I just like all those things where you see
pieces of the other person everywhere, if the life you
had everywhere, all the things and items and places that
remind you of times you spent together. I don't know,
it's just it feels like a ghost to me. It
(16:46):
feels like something hanging over, like it's always there um
whether you want it to be or not. And I've
also been thinking because we were talking about this year
has been called the Year of the Breakup album with
Taylor Swift and Adele dominating the chichs, and you and
I have talked before about you know, ending up in
someone else's song or yes, things like that, and I don't.
(17:13):
It's strange to me that these x is I have
in my life where I'm so convinced it's a good
thing we broke up still have this. I don't know
if it's power, but I still think, Oh, I wonder
what they would think if they knew I were talking
about them, or I wonder what they would think about
my conversations now about how I think relationships should look,
(17:34):
or else. Actually, like all of these things, it just
amazes me. It makes sense if you spend so much
time with someone, you make these memories with people, and
perhaps the part of you thinks you know it's forever,
and then it's not, and but it is. I'll just
catch myself thinking, why do I care what he thinks?
(17:56):
Right right? M hmm, I have? And it cracks me
up that I've had like the most stereotypical breakup story
that you can imagine, with the ice cream and the
crying and the cookies and all of this stuff. And
I never would have thought it would have been like that,
and then it would have lasted as long as it did.
Because it did. Yeah, so Merry Christmas. Say Merry Christmas,
(18:22):
get your suckle box of cookies and yes, yes do
whatever you know pikes. You happy is healthy for you
self care wise. We are so thrilled to have you
as a listener or all of you, so thank you
as always if you would like to contact us, and
you can our email as steffidium Mom and stuff at
I hurt me dot com. You can find us on
(18:44):
Twitter at moms podcast, or on Instagram and stuff I've
Never Told you. Thanks as always to our super producer
Christina making it all happen, yes, and thanks to you
for listening Stuff I Never Told The production of I
Heart Radio. For more podcast on my Heart Radio, is
it the Eye Heartdio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you
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