A week ago I, for all intents and purposes, broke up with Gary. FB msg’d him all that was on my mind and then deleted him.
This weekend I msged him Friday when I was out in SJ. Nothing special: 1. I’m out in SJ. 2. YOU. He msg’d me back in the morning saying sorry he was at his buddies camp. I didn’t reply, why would I?
Saturday night, 2:37am rolls around I’m just settling down after a mad night out.
G: So, you only text me when your drunk
You. Are. Kidding. Me.
Me: oh and you’re sober right now?
G: I wouldn’t drive but not drunk that’s for sure
Me: well I wasn’t exactly drunk when I wrote you that fb msg maybe you should start by replying to that
G: yeah I read it I mean I don’t know what to say im a dick you have every right to be mad
Me: well then why are you so concerned?
G: I don’t know you’re a nice girl you don’t deserve what I did
I’ve been ghosting it around my house lately. I constantly find myself with this look on my face: brow furrowed, eye brows turned up in the middle, and a frown where my smile should be. I sigh often, I mope around, I reread twilight, I say I’m fine when my mom asks me what’s wrong. I’m tired. I’m….exhausted.
I’m sitting here and all I want to do is msg him.
Do you still want to talk to me?
It’s got to be the lamest phrase ever..anythinged. I feel like I need to be this strong person, cuz I usually am. I feel like that’s what people expect of me. I feel like I’m such a loser, so pathetic, because all I want is for him to talk to me, to say he’s sorry and to fall asleep with his arms around me again. I feel like my friends think I’m pathetic for not being able to delete/block/de-friend/ignore him. I feel like I can’t mention it anymore without getting this “look”. I know that look, I know those emotions. I was that person. I remember feeding the same advice to other girlfriends. When did I pull such a 180’ ? I can barely do a cartwheel…
Do I try to box these…emotions, if that’s what they are? Save it for home, when I’m alone and protected by my sheets. Where I can watch 5 episodes of that DVD box set in a row. Where my cat never judges how many popsicles I consume. Where I can read New Moon out loud while crying and scream at Bella for breaking poor Jacobs heart.
I stare at my work computer, listening on repeat to “Love The Way You Lie”. Thanks for the timely theme song Eminem.
Ragingly. Pathetic. I feel it, I know it, I breathe it, and I still can’t help it. I can’t swim, or drink, or eat or think it away. How do I get out. Are we ever really out.
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