Step 2: Create A Petty Playlist #SorryNotSorry

So, you've deleted all traces of your ex and fully embraced the "out of sight, out of mind" mentality. What's next? Music! More specifically... creating a petty playlist.

I got tired of listening to heartbreak songs... that was more so our first breakup. But the 2nd breakup... the one that was actually for real, for real... I needed some music that spoke to my soul.

Music has been such therapy for me over the years. In addition to real therapy, queuing up a playlist that matches my mood is always a good way for me to process my feelings, purge the emo, and groove to shit that makes my soul feel lighter.

So far nothing has topped Beyonce's "Sorry" as this song takes the mother-effing CAKE at making me feel better. Actually, Drake's "Hotline Bling" is a close 2nd, but "Sorry" is the perfect song to sing at the top of your lungs, solo or with your girlfriends, on repeat.

I seriously made my girlfriend play this about 10 times the other night I was at her place. I totally embraced my petty and filmed fun Snapchat videos, smoked a blunt, and just allowed myself to feel. 

I've been extremely guilty of feeling like a situation can't "get the best of me" and that I have to be strong... that I end up putting on my game face and keep trucking. While this resilience has gotten me through many things, I learned (via therapy) that this mindset also runs the risk of not fully processing the trauma/hurt/whatever has happened. It's great to pick yourself up and keep it moving, but ALLOW yourself to feel the emotions as they come. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to smile, smile. It's okay to have your emotions be an unpredictable roller coaster. What's not okay is pushing your feelings to the back of your mind, never to be processed or felt. Believe me, they will always come to light, probably at the least convenient time.

I want to encourage everyone who is on the road to healing from hurt, disappointment or whatever trauma has come your way, that there is light at the end of the tunnel and the tunnel actually does have an end. Sometimes we're the midst of our journey and have no clue how far we have left, it's easy to forget how far we have come. Take in a few deep breaths and know you're doing a good job.


 


Sorry, I ain't sorry
Sorry, I ain't sorry
I ain't sorry
Nigga nah
Sorry, I ain't sorry
Sorry, I ain't sorry
I ain't sorry

He trying to roll me up (I ain't sorry)
I ain't picking up (I ain't sorry)
Headed to the club (I ain't sorry)
I ain't thinking 'bout you (I ain't sorry)

Me and my ladies sip my d'ussé cups
I don't give a fuck chucking my deuces up
Suck on my balls pause
I had enough
I ain't thinking 'bout you
I ain't thinking 'bout

Middle fingers up
Put them hands high
Wave it in his face
Tell 'em boy bye
Tell 'em boy bye
Boy bye
Middle fingers up
I ain't thinking 'bout you

Sorry, I ain't sorry
Sorry, I ain't sorry
I ain't sorry
Nigga nah
Sorry, I ain't sorry
Sorry, I ain't sorry
I ain't sorry
No no hell nah

Now you want to say you're sorry
Now you want to call me crying
Now you gotta see me wildin'
Now I'm the one that's lying
And I don't feel bad about it
It's exactly what you get
Stop indirecting my grinding

I ain't thinking bout you
I ain't thinking bout you
I ain't thinking bout you
I ain't thinking bout you
I ain't thinking bout you

Middle fingers up
Put them hands high
Wave it in his face
Tell 'em boy bye
Tell 'em boy bye
Boy bye
Middle fingers up
I ain't thinking bout you

Sorry, I ain't sorry
Sorry, I ain't sorry
I ain't sorry
Nigga nah
Sorry, I ain't sorry
Sorry, I ain't sorry
I ain't sorry
No no hell nah

Looking at my watch he should've been home
Today I regret the night I put that ring on
He always got them fucking excuses
I pray to the lord you reveal what his truth is

I left a note in the hallway
By the time you read it I'll be far away
I'm far away
But I ain't fucking with nobody
Let's have a toast to the good life
Suicide before you see this tear fall down my eyes
Me and my baby we gone be alright
We gon' live a good life
Big homie better grow up
Me and my whoadies 'bout to stroll up
I see them boppers in the corner
They sneaking out the back door
He only want me when I'm not there
He better call becky with the good hair
He better call becky with the good hair

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