These are the days of miracle and wonder / Don't cry, baby, don't cry
I want to say once and for all that I have no interest in airing the 50 reasons why my ex and I broke up on this blog. In fact, I never intended to talk about the split much at all, for privacy reasons, but also for common decency reasons. However, he seems hell-bent on making veiled comments about me pretty much every day. It hurts. It hurts a lot. I don’t know if he’s trying to make me cry, but he is succeeding.
(And for the record, I’ve seen half of Pulp Fiction but didn’t finish watching it because, 1. It’s too violent, 2. I’m not a Tarantino fan, 3. I was 9 when it came out, and 4. I WASN’T ENJOYING IT. Apparently that makes me undateable, which is interesting, since we dated for 4.5 years. Again, thanks for that one. It certainly makes me look like the immature one, right?)
But I’m sick of the anger, resentment, and constant pissing contest. Nobody did anything malicious to end things; we just both quit trying and couldn’t figure out how to fix things. That’s not a moral failing. It just happens sometimes. It was both our faults. If he wants to make himself feel better by attributing our failure to things he imagined I did, then fine. I can’t waste any more energy trying to change his mind. It’s too fucking painful, and I have a life I’m trying to get on with over here.
The truth is, I want nothing but the best for him. Even through all the hurtful exchanges we’ve had, I still want him to be happy. Some days, I wish I was the one who could make him happy, but I think that ship has sunk. It still causes a pain in my chest when I think about the future we had planned so carefully, and how it has completely crumbled. That’s probably the hardest part of all.
But then I go home to someone who brings me so much joy. Adjusting to a brand-new relationship has been difficult, especially since we started living together and dating virtually simultaneously. Generally, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It certainly caused some severe growing pains at the beginning. However, the last few weeks have been beautiful. Home is a happy place.* We talk about everything. He is not secretive like my ex. We’re remarkably comfortable with each other, considering how short a time we’ve even known one another. He catches me off-guard with comments so tender and thoughtful that, knowing him, you’d never expect. My ex made me feel loved and valuable, but my current amour makes me feel like I can do absolutely anything.
And even now, I’m crying writing this post. Good or bad, here is not where I expected to be at 26. Overall, I’m happy these days. I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, and I’m living with them, but today, at this moment, I wouldn’t trade them. I’ve never felt so confused and confident at the same time.
*I accidentally typed this as “Hope is a happy place” initially, which is a beautiful - and fitting - sentiment, too.
(And for the record, I’ve seen half of Pulp Fiction but didn’t finish watching it because, 1. It’s too violent, 2. I’m not a Tarantino fan, 3. I was 9 when it came out, and 4. I WASN’T ENJOYING IT. Apparently that makes me undateable, which is interesting, since we dated for 4.5 years. Again, thanks for that one. It certainly makes me look like the immature one, right?)
But I’m sick of the anger, resentment, and constant pissing contest. Nobody did anything malicious to end things; we just both quit trying and couldn’t figure out how to fix things. That’s not a moral failing. It just happens sometimes. It was both our faults. If he wants to make himself feel better by attributing our failure to things he imagined I did, then fine. I can’t waste any more energy trying to change his mind. It’s too fucking painful, and I have a life I’m trying to get on with over here.
The truth is, I want nothing but the best for him. Even through all the hurtful exchanges we’ve had, I still want him to be happy. Some days, I wish I was the one who could make him happy, but I think that ship has sunk. It still causes a pain in my chest when I think about the future we had planned so carefully, and how it has completely crumbled. That’s probably the hardest part of all.
But then I go home to someone who brings me so much joy. Adjusting to a brand-new relationship has been difficult, especially since we started living together and dating virtually simultaneously. Generally, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It certainly caused some severe growing pains at the beginning. However, the last few weeks have been beautiful. Home is a happy place.* We talk about everything. He is not secretive like my ex. We’re remarkably comfortable with each other, considering how short a time we’ve even known one another. He catches me off-guard with comments so tender and thoughtful that, knowing him, you’d never expect. My ex made me feel loved and valuable, but my current amour makes me feel like I can do absolutely anything.
And even now, I’m crying writing this post. Good or bad, here is not where I expected to be at 26. Overall, I’m happy these days. I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, and I’m living with them, but today, at this moment, I wouldn’t trade them. I’ve never felt so confused and confident at the same time.
*I accidentally typed this as “Hope is a happy place” initially, which is a beautiful - and fitting - sentiment, too.