like a grate in the floor.
If, in the future, if you decide that it's time to split from your significant other...please make sure that you will not have to continue living with them for any extended period of time. It makes up go down, and down go to the left. Every petty thing becomes the falling sky.
This is how things were going between Caleb and me. I was really trying to refrain from writing about this. Nobody likes to read the lame post break up tragedies of a "broken heart."
not that my heart was broken, but here's the skinny:
We were getting along for a while afterwards. We continued to watch movies, go to parties, or play video games together. This smooth transition from the break up was great...but it all fell apart when i asked Caleb to please not wear my clothes anymore.
It didn't seem like an unreasonable request, especially because he would wear something like my work-pants that i had just laundered to work...an hour before my shift.
Regardless, things became hellish soon after.
I treated him with indifference as much as i could. If he was going to act that way, i certainly wasn't going to make great strides to be friendly. He treated me with hatred and bitterness.
I was seriously thinking of putting a line of tape down the middle of every room.
Eventually, i couldn't handle it anymore. I certainly didn't want to feel that way every time i went home. So I told him that he was acting in a very juvenile and selfish way, that seemed to be driven by a need to hurt me.
Later I got drunk (so that i could have more convincing emotions) and told him that if he was trying to hurt me, and make me feel like a bad person for breaking up with him (even though in pre-break up discussions he led me to believe everything would be alright, and agreed that a relationship that one of us wasn't happy with was pointless) he had done a great job, and that he could stop now. I like...cried and stuff.
it's a big deal.
i forgot what it was like to cry that way. All the tears, warm face, and snot everywhere.
anyway, he seemed to get the hint.
things are civil again.
and he's wearing my clothes again.
I'll kill him.
...not really.
the moral of this story:
Space and separation are necessary.
Thank you, dearest reader, for putting up with this venting. I appreciate it.
This is how things were going between Caleb and me. I was really trying to refrain from writing about this. Nobody likes to read the lame post break up tragedies of a "broken heart."
not that my heart was broken, but here's the skinny:
We were getting along for a while afterwards. We continued to watch movies, go to parties, or play video games together. This smooth transition from the break up was great...but it all fell apart when i asked Caleb to please not wear my clothes anymore.
It didn't seem like an unreasonable request, especially because he would wear something like my work-pants that i had just laundered to work...an hour before my shift.
Regardless, things became hellish soon after.
I treated him with indifference as much as i could. If he was going to act that way, i certainly wasn't going to make great strides to be friendly. He treated me with hatred and bitterness.
I was seriously thinking of putting a line of tape down the middle of every room.
Eventually, i couldn't handle it anymore. I certainly didn't want to feel that way every time i went home. So I told him that he was acting in a very juvenile and selfish way, that seemed to be driven by a need to hurt me.
Later I got drunk (so that i could have more convincing emotions) and told him that if he was trying to hurt me, and make me feel like a bad person for breaking up with him (even though in pre-break up discussions he led me to believe everything would be alright, and agreed that a relationship that one of us wasn't happy with was pointless) he had done a great job, and that he could stop now. I like...cried and stuff.
it's a big deal.
i forgot what it was like to cry that way. All the tears, warm face, and snot everywhere.
anyway, he seemed to get the hint.
things are civil again.
and he's wearing my clothes again.
I'll kill him.
...not really.
the moral of this story:
Space and separation are necessary.
Thank you, dearest reader, for putting up with this venting. I appreciate it.