Those damn text messages really stirred nasty, unwanted thoughts back into my brain.

Low on storage my phone read this morning. Okay, time to delete some applications from my phone to free up space.

I looked through the many apps I had, but couldn’t find it in my heart to delete them. Instagram? No way. Facebook? Ut-uh. Google Maps? Hell no.

Voice Dialer, which takes up 40.00 gigs, yes. I simple pushed the delete button and went on my way. Or so I thought.

To my surprise, it erased all of my text messages. Every text message that I sent on that phone was gone. My Temple Days. Tennessee Days. Matt Days. Friend Days.

It. Was. Gone.

I began to think, freak out, ponder, wonder how could I have been so stupid? Why would I just erase everything?

It’s a clean slate. Everything is gone. I texted my bestie to tell her my horrible news, but she took it as a sign. Now all of your texts from Matt are erased. 

Honestly, I never could have deleted them. EVER. I would have saved them to read, enjoy, go back in time, but now I can’t. It’s gone, done, like my relationship, over.

Temple Days are gone. My relationship is over. Tennessee has come & gone. 

Later, I began to really think about it. It’s time to move on. It’s time to really let go of the past & move on. For real this time. No jokes. No gimics. No avoiding. Nothing. I NEED to keep going. I didn’t feel like working out, but I pushed myself. I had to. I told myself that I needed to workout.

Toward the end of my ab rolls, I began thinking again & I was depressed. I told myself not to cry, hold it in. I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t laugh. I couldn’t do anything but frown.

The text messages were gone & I couldn’t get them back. It’s as if they’ve floated away in the air.

It really hit me after that. Gosh, I cried. I cried for everything. Temple Days. Matt Days. Tennessee Days. Her Campus Days. Good Housekeeping Days. NYC. Philadelphia. Train. Food Truck.s Tea. Gosh.

Do you realize a year ago around this time, I had just developed a crush on Matt? The elevator ride anniversary is coming up as well. I believe it was around September 29th or so. That date is just around the corner. I miss it.

I miss the kisses. I miss the hugs. I miss the talks. I miss the compliments. I miss it all. Gosh, this text message thing brought all of it back to the surface. Why? How? When? Who? What? 

I’m done. I do indeed want to truly be done with all of this mumbo jumbo. Just drop it. Leave it in the park & not come back to it.

I will. I promise. I still couldn’t see Matt right now. I couldn’t.

As my bestie read the tarot cards, she told me I was really effected by the break-up in April. I’m still reeling from it. It took a lot out of you, she added with a sincere look in her eyes. I knew it. I nodded my head because I knew it. I know that. I did. You may not think it did, but you’re wrong.

Gosh, I cared for him dearly. He was the first guy I exposed my whole self to. I did it all– except the deed. We got close– physically, mentally & emotionally. Then, boom, I dropped the bomb. I had to end it. I felt like he was holding me back. I couldn’t take it. In ways, I feel so relieved, but I’m not over it. We dated for 6 months. It’s been 5 months. It usually takes the same amount of months dating as it does to get over the other person. So, according to that, I should be over him by.. next month? 

Those damn text messages really stirred nasty, unwanted thoughts back into my brain. Re-living the past sometimes sucks.

It was an apartment!

Another day, another interview.

With my heart beating a mile a minute, I headed to the Hamilton Train Station to board the 10:46 a.m. to New York Penn Station. But, this interview somehow felt different. My heart truly wasn’t in it. It wasn’t a magazine interview. Instead, it was for a once a week Social Media Internship. Before that, I checked the address. Once I found out I’d need to hop onto 3 different subways and take a taxi, I was a bit turned off, but I did it anyway. By doing this, I’d be so proud of myself. I’d be navigating through NYC and it would be a challenge. I was ready. I was up for it!

I knew it would take a long while to get there & I gave myself enough time. It was near Midtown and I’m used to going to Manhattan. I was completely alone. Sure, I could ask other travelers! However, I was from PA and hadn’t the slightest idea. I just merely followed the piece of paper my brother helped me with by writing down the trains & switches I’d have to go through. Take this, take that.

I had to completely concentrate. I couldn’t look away or I’d miss my stop. That would mess up the whole deal, the whole plan. It would set me back & I’d start to panic.

After I found the “Downtown” 1-2-3, I felt safe.  I needed to get off at 14th Street and locate the “L.” Then, I’d get off at 14th, find the 6, and get off at 23rd. Boy, I was tired even before the interview began. My next goal was to hale a taxi. Can you smell the Pennsylvania blood on the side of the road? It was probably painful to watch me get the attention of a taxi driver. Eventually, when he came and I told him where to go, he questioned it. He was rude, nasty & ignorant. What did I expect? Once we got to the building, I handed him the money and left. I wanted to get away from him.

I took the elevator and sat outside for 30 minutes, since I was 45 minutes early. I began to contemplate why I came. I had strong doubts about this whole thing, but I needed to go through with it or I might have regretted it. So, I stuck with it trying to appreciate my surroundings, taking it all in. The atmosphere, the breeze, the sunlight in my eyes. EVERYTHING. 

At 2:16 p.m. I checked in with the doorman, who told me to take a seat in the small lobby with two couches and a tiny mail room. I sat there observing the people walking by and the doubts came again. My first thought was I could so walk out right now and not look back. I could get out of this thing right now. But, I didn’t. Around 2:21 p.m., I figured I’d head up to the seating area where my interview would take place. Cool. As I was walking toward the elevator, the man stopped me. He told me it was too early? I’ve been on precisely 8 interviews and had never heard those words. I was confused, utterly & completely puzzled.

2:27 p.m.  he phoned the woman to let her know. Once I was informed, I could finally head up. I pushed the up button and clicked —. When the doors opened up on level —, I got out of the elevator. Doors? Door after door after door was what I saw. I didn’t see any signs nor did I see anything about this website. Confused & baffled, I looked for the letter suite the woman gave me. When I found the door, I knocked. No answer. At this point, I thought about leaving, peacing out. Hello? There were stairs a few steps away and I could take them all the way down and exit, but I didn’t. I stayed put. No one came to greet me and I had to knock once again.

When the woman came from behind Suite —–, she appeared nervous. I walked into an.. apartment? Um. I was really confused. I was inside an apartment and wanted out. I saw a refrigerator, two couches, two computers and photos. There were photos scattered on the kitchen table! Table. Chairs. Stove. What was this? Was this a joke? haha. You got me. 

Then, she began asking me about my background. I’m in an apartment, was the only thought I had. I needed to concentrate, but all I could think about was the following– I’m in an apartment. But, then I came back to life and told her what she wanted t o hear. The woman, who was supposed to interview me, emerged from the other room with a spaghetti strap black shirt, no bra and black pants. With her nipples showing, she shook my hand. 

This is an apartment.

She gave me a few tasks and I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t wrap my head around this whole experience. I wanted out. I got done the tasks and left. They would be in touch with me, or rather I could call on Monday to find out. Why would I call you? That’s a bit unprofessional and I wouldn’t be contacting them. It would be too much of a burden just getting there. I had to think about going back onto the subway and going home. I was a long way from home and I knew it.

After almost getting on the wrong train and having trouble finding this and that, I finally made my way back to Penn Station. I knew where I was at and felt safe again. I bought a $5.00 ham & swiss sandwich and called it a day. I didn’t get home until around 8:00 p.m. It was an all-day affair and I knew it.

In my heart, I knew this wasn’t for me even before anyone else. This was for a New Yorker who lived close or someone who is desperate for experience. I have the experience. I could find something like that around here.

I was stuck and had no way out, so I appeared friendly & excited. Meanwhile, I was uncomfortable & shouting in my mind rude & nasty things. Secretly cringing at the sight of the whole situation.

It was a good experience because it made me stronger. I accomplished this New York commute and I was proud. I “acted” like a true New Yorker. But, I didn’t fit in– glancing at a piece of paper with directions written all over it looking nervously at the train schedules. You could smell me from a mile and you could so easily take advantage of my blood.

All I could think of on the ride train, you ask? Well, it was an apartment! 

I just keep forgetting to love myself.

“You’re gorgeous” “You’re so small” “You’re petite” “You’re such a beautiful girl” “You’re very pretty” “You’re stunning.”

You can state all of these characteristics, but when it boils down, I see myself in a different way than you see me. 

Today, I feel fat, nasty, disgusting, grotesque, not myself. Maybe it has to do with not working out this morning. I figured since I’m hiking through the forest later, that would be sufficient. I’m beginning  to think it’s too much now. Too much thinking, worrying, pondering about my body. I can’t just be ME. I feel the need to lose weight, tighten my stomach, over exert myself to the point where I’m exhausted, punish myself for indulging too much. What’s it going to take to really feel comfortable in my skin? To really love myself? To love my body the way it is? Everyone tells me I have a nice body, but I don’t believe them, merely brushing off the words and concentrating on mine, the negative ones. What’s the deal? Why? I haven’t a clue.

Here’s a thought– Love yourself. Love who you are. Love your body. Love your assets. You’re ‘you’ forever.

I keep forgetting. I’m Hope Marie Kumor and always will be. I’ll always be her & I can’t change that. I don’t ever remember a time where I felt comfortable with my body. Maybe to you it sounds crazy, berserk, whacked, insane, but it’s true. It’s 1050% the truth. I can’t get over it. What changes can I make in order to really love myself? I tell others to love themselves & I can’t even do it myself. I’m a fraud, fake, phony. I don’t live by my own rules. I dish them out, but don’t follow them myself. Ew. You’re nasty, gross, disgusting, crazy, loca, but I’m just being honest.

I just keep forgetting to love myself.

Now, I’m trying to build my confidence.

Who am I?  Hope Marie Kumor

What do I want? To be a magazine writer/nutritionist

Where am I going? In the magazine industry/blogging world

What am I doing? Trying to find a writing job

I’m trying to dig deep. Dig deep into myself in order to truly find happiness, search for myself in myself. I need to begin loving myself. Having a boyfriend wouldn’t be so smart of me. Before I do anything, I must love myself. How can I ever expect a man to love me if I can’t even accept myself? I’m not comfortable in my own skin & it’s ugly. I need to start being positive, thinking positive thoughts about my appearance.

I’m sitting in a diner with my bestie, without much makeup on, nor pink or red lips reading the menu when this man walks by and tells me I’m pretty. Hardly any makeup & no fancy lips. How is that possible? I didn’t think I looked that good, but apparently, someone else noticed. 

Thank you, sir. Now I just have to believe these compliments. Believe that I’m pretty, beautiful, smart, ambitious, cute, funny, sweet,  and intelligent. I must see it & believe it.

I am Hope Marie Kumor and I am smart, nice, funny, beautiful, pretty, cute, intelligent, sweet, kind, good-natured, and awesome. I am a pretty cool chick!

Now, I just have to build my confidence and stop downing and doubting who I am. Be you. Be positive. Be radiant.

I just miss everything.

The breeze gives me chills. I smell the fall just by the air. I can feel it. Oh, I remember.

A year ago around this time, I was in my senior year, my last year in college. I was about to meet a guy. A guy I would have a 6-month relationship with & didn’t even know it. I didn’t know what was ahead, but I knew I had to concentrate on school. I had to fully commit to school. I had big projects, studying, work & reading to do. No matter what, there was always something to do, something to get done, something to accomplish. I was always stressed, always pressed for time, always wanting, yearning for it to end, but I had no clue how I’d feel when it actually ended. Like, how would I feel when it was completely over? I didn’t take that into consideration. Instead, I just wanted the papers, the chaos, the stress, the annoyance to pass through. If I could do it again, I would certainly appreciate it.

I’m thinking about getting a certificate in Nutrition. Would that change anything? Would I be able to obtain an internship or job in Health & Fitness Magazines? But, did another one of my classmates have that background? How did he do it? Well, I kind of want to know about the nutrition field. I mean, I really like it. Then, I could go back to school & write about, study, read, do homework & appreciate it this time. Really. I could do it once more. I still have time. There’s still time. I could still go back.

Maybe I will go back. I just have to think about everything that goes along with it. Think. Think. Think. Remember. Pros & Cons.

At times, I feel so sad about school. Other times, I tell myself to move forth, move forward with my life & don’t look back. Try not to look back. I need to be in the present, be here right now. What’s the use of looking back? I hate looking back. I want to look forward.

It’s time to move on, but it won’t be easy. I will still write about this. I will still think about it. How could I completely let it go in such a short time? I’m very nostalgic. I have to be.  I always have been.

Lately, I haven’t felt like talking. I hate when others ask me THAT question, that annoying normal question, “how are you?” Please, don’t ask me. I’d prefer you not to. I would like to skip past that question & talk about something else. Maybe we could talk about you instead? Maybe we could talk about your relationships, your thoughts, your dreams, your schooling, let’s go. Change the subject. Change it before I roll my eyes & move on.

I HATE that question. Everything about it annoys the hell out of me. I’ve changed. I’m so different. I’m a bit more quieter letting you talk instead of me. 

I just miss everything.

What to do?!

With every bone in my body, I hope for it. I wait to see if that email comes in and it doesn’t. I don’t receive that congratulatory email letting me know I’ve obtained the fall internship with a magazine I so dearly wanted, yearned for, desired & craved. Instead, the editors made a decision and gave it to someone else. Someone better qualified.

I sat there and read the email that said, “Unfortunately.” As soon as I saw that word, I knew that was that. I wouldn’t get it. I wouldn’t travel to NYC three days a week to intern for one of the top Health & Fitness magazines. Instead, I would stay in my hometown and continue working for a company I can no longer stand. From the pay, the way customers treat you, the crappy hours, the job in general. I’m over it. I want out. I want a scapegoat, a way to put it all behind me. I want it & I want it now. I can’t wait. I just want to write, or atleast that was my only true passion until something else turned up. 

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE writing, but I’m also developing an interest in Nutrition. I’ve been reading & researching programs to get a degree in.  What should I do?

I feel exhausted trying to make this decision. At one end, I’d feel  like I’m giving up on my magazine search I so badly wanted. But, then, I feel like I can do both. However, we know I’d be more so focusing on the schooling rather than my writing. It would suffer. Would it get left behind? I’m scared. What to do? What to do? What to do? What the heck should I do? I’m not sure.

But, then, boom, there’s a blast from the past.

I’m sitting at my computer looking through all the previous videos of one my good friends & I see a video from the beginning of their relationship. At that time, I was dating Him. It all comes back to me– their start was mine as well. I began dating Him one month to the day before that pair. They are getting married in January and I am a bridesmaid. I am excited & honored to be part of their wedding. I cannot wait to be in their wedding. After all, I was there from start to finish. I remember the stories, the tales. It all seemed so easy, so fun, so exciting back then. But, I was sad & I had struggles. I grappled with the decision to break-up with Him while she stayed with her man. 


All of these thoughts cloud my mind. I can’t get rid of them. They are here. They are present. Shoo. Get away. Don’t come back. It hurts. It hurts way too much.

Not being in school. Not having someone to constantly talk to. Not having someone there when I need them. Feeling afraid about my future. Feeling scared for my present. Growing up. Getting older. Having kids. Starting a family. Loved ones dying. Changes. Things feeling different.

Remember. Remember this time in your life right now. Cherish it. Learn from it. Live it. Breath it. Love it. I will never have another moment like this in my life– to be so careful. I mean, in November, I need to start paying for my student loans. Everything will start. Everything will begin. Nothing will be the same.

I’m hurting. I feel sad, depressed, not myself. I can feel myself growing up, getting older, maturing & gosh I’m scared. Life without school is freaking terrifying. I’m so scared. I can’t even begin to describe it to you. It’s certainly a change, an experience. 

I’m freaking out. I’m scared.

What to do?!