Should I write something that isn’t heartbreaking today? It’s hard to write these and not mention my sorrows, since it’s such a dominant force in my life.
But writing about it slightly delivers a relief that I cannot get anywhere else. So here we are.
The last time that I felt “the sting” was about two minutes ago, which is the usual amount of time before I think about the whole situation.
Sometimes I’m able to go a decent amount of time before thinking about it.
I remember yesterday I was watching a movie and I was about an hour in when something reminded me about it, and I spent the rest of the film wallowing in my sadness,
completely ruining the experience. Which was a shame, because it was pretty good up to that point. This is just an example of what I have to deal with.
How annoying! I daresay that this depression, or whatever the hell it is, has overstayed its welcome completely.
In the hallways at school, (and this is very embarrassing to admit, even on paper), I have had to tweak my schedule in a way that makes it to where I am the most likely to not run into her.
I refuse to say her name in my memoirs, because of the pain those letters cause me and because I don’t plan on showing these to anybody,
but if I do then I think that keeping the name anonymous will make it easier for somebody on the outside to be able to relate with them.
I don’t think that I’ll ever write about what exactly happened or the events afterward in extreme detail, for I see it as a waste of time since like I stated earlier,
I don’t plan on showing these to anybody and because I just don’t really want too.
The reason I started writing these is not to have a medium to vent my frustration, even though it may look that way.
I wish this shit wasn’t on my mind 24\7 so I could write about something else. Trust me, I’m the last person on Earth that wants to write about this topic.
But if you have a problem with it, I apologize.
But then why are you reading this in the first place?
I pray that someday I’ll look back on these and think to myself, “What I hard time in my life,
if only I knew that I would find somebody way better and life would be greater than I could ever imagine.
” I know that the day will come when I get over this cancer, but what I fear is that I’ll never be able to recreate the feeling I had when I was dating you know who.
I don’t doubt that I’ll fall in love again, but I do doubt that I’ll find somebody as good looking and for a lack of better word “artsy.
” I hate to admit it, but she was nearly perfect in many ways. Perfect height, perfect body, perfect hair, amazing artist, a bookworm, nerdy, silly, the list goes on.
The only things that I can think of that annoyed me was that she was maybe a little bit too immature. At the time, I would just chuckle about it, being all like, “Look at my crazy girlfriend.
What a doll.” It wasn’t until I had to deal with her immaturity as an ex that I noticed how annoying it was. Also, she never really showed much enthusiasm to talk or be around me.
In privacy she was more than affectionate, but in public you could barely tell she knew me, which actually really did annoy me.
But I always saw these as things that we could work on in the future. Not things that would be worth breaking up over.
For the sake of understanding my pain, I’ll admit to you that I still have no idea why the breakup happened. (Remember, I don’t want to go into any major details in these.
I want to enjoy writing this, not the opposite.) I’ve given up on trying to understand why it happened, but that’ll always be a big reason for why its always on my mind.
Ugh, I’m spent on talking about this. I hate that I’m giving her the attention, even though she may not know it. I just can’t believe that all of this happened to me.
The events during and after the catastrophe. I can feel the sharp sting of embarrassment as this causes me to remember shameful things I did after I got dumped.
But you must understand the immeasurable amount confusion, hurt, and disbelief that I felt afterwards.
I think that all of the things I did and said were completely understandable under the circumstances. No matter how embarrassing they were.
I’ve always had trouble with letting the past die, and now that I have all of these things to beat myself up over, I can’t do much besides try to cope with it. It sucks.
Seeing “it” in the hallway is enough to ruin my entire day. It’s pretty much a foolproof way of sending me into a pit of sorrow for the rest of the day.
But the funny thing is, I’m completely fine with moving on to other woman. Why, not even a month after we broke up, I made out with some girl in the back of my car after work, twice.
So it’s not like I’m being all, “She was the one!” I never thought about us dating long term. I told myself we would have that talk after I graduated.
I’m willing to admit that she’s probably the most alluring girl I’ve ever met. Like I stated before, this is my fear.
The fear that I won’t be able to find anybody that’ll make me feel the same way. We’ll see. Writing about this for an entire memoir felt exhausting.
I can’t tell yet if I feel a relief, but if I do than I’ll write more about it. In the meantime, reader, let me end this tangent on this note.
I have had daydreams about her reading something like this and coming up to me during school and announcing her feelings for me.
When I think of these scenarios, I feel so pathetic afterward that its shameful.
How could I want her back after all of this? After all the unnecessary extra hurt she caused me? I’ve come to realize that this just shows how real it was for me.
How much I truly felt an unconditioned love for this person. And how she threw it back in my face. I honestly don’t know if I could take her back. I pray that I wouldn’t.
But if there’s anybody I would ever consider taking back, its her. Not that I would. Because she’s an asshole now. But she used to be my blondie.
And no matter how much she changes, I’ll always want to have that girl I met last summer back. To bad she’s gone.