anybody but you
Yesterday was bad, today was worse.
Each and every negative emotion that I highlighted in my previous post came roaring back like a tsunami, magnified.
I think the trigger, that moment that destroyed my progress and brought all of it crashing down was when I was planning my remaining 19 days of leave for the rest of the year. Wouldn't it be nice, if I was living in an alternate timeline where we were still together in a happy relationship, and he wasn't so busy with work all the time and could take leave to spend quality time with me and we could do all of the things that we said we wanted to do?
And now, these 19 days just stretch in front of me. My weekends stretch in front of me. Look at the free time that I have, but no one special anymore to spend it with.
And it's my birthday this month.
Happy fucking birthday to me. Still single and sad.
Everything hurts.
I knew it'd hurt, I knew it'd be difficult, but I never expected it to be like this. I guess it's 'cause I haven't had to do this in the past eight years.
Throughout my life, I'm usually the one being dumped. I'm the one that guys leave, without a backwards glance. I'm the one holding on to things when the other party was happy to let things crash and burn.
I was stupid in my teens, in my early twenties.
I'm in my early thirties now, and I'm still so fucking dumb. Wake the fuck up.
At the back of my mind, even when I'm doing other stuff; the first thing when I wake up, I just keep thinking of what happened that night, his words. I keep recalling our texts in the beginning when we were so happy with each other. I keep thinking of the things we did together. All of that, just replaying in my mind in this endless loop.
I wish I stopped thinking about him so much, because he's probably in a better place right now.
He did what he did to get what he wanted, which was to get rid of me as soon as possible. It doesn't matter how hurtful, how unexpected, how clumsy his execution was. He did it so he could focus on work, so he could find someone else that was more compatible, could connect more with him, someone that he could fall in love with.
That person isn't me.
I can't bear it when I'm alone with my thoughts and memories.
I hate how much I let things get to me, because he's the fucking jerk in this. He's the one that should be this torn up, because he's lost a lot more than me. He lost a woman that has her strengths (and weaknesses, yes I know), was understanding, minimal drama, willing to compromise, communicate and deal with problems head-on.
But still, a tiny part of me wishes I could turn back time. Start fresh, do it right, with what I know now.
But does he still deserve me, though?
I feel so hollowed-out, so empty. Like there's this perpetual, stormy rain cloud of sadness hovering on top of me, from morning to midnight, drenching every half-smile that I pull up, shading out every random light-hearted thought that I have.
Some days, it's like the world's gone out of colour.
If for every tear I shed, I'd get over him faster, I'd cry so hard 'til I break my bones.
Each and every negative emotion that I highlighted in my previous post came roaring back like a tsunami, magnified.
I think the trigger, that moment that destroyed my progress and brought all of it crashing down was when I was planning my remaining 19 days of leave for the rest of the year. Wouldn't it be nice, if I was living in an alternate timeline where we were still together in a happy relationship, and he wasn't so busy with work all the time and could take leave to spend quality time with me and we could do all of the things that we said we wanted to do?
And now, these 19 days just stretch in front of me. My weekends stretch in front of me. Look at the free time that I have, but no one special anymore to spend it with.
And it's my birthday this month.
Happy fucking birthday to me. Still single and sad.
Everything hurts.
I knew it'd hurt, I knew it'd be difficult, but I never expected it to be like this. I guess it's 'cause I haven't had to do this in the past eight years.
Throughout my life, I'm usually the one being dumped. I'm the one that guys leave, without a backwards glance. I'm the one holding on to things when the other party was happy to let things crash and burn.
I was stupid in my teens, in my early twenties.
I'm in my early thirties now, and I'm still so fucking dumb. Wake the fuck up.
At the back of my mind, even when I'm doing other stuff; the first thing when I wake up, I just keep thinking of what happened that night, his words. I keep recalling our texts in the beginning when we were so happy with each other. I keep thinking of the things we did together. All of that, just replaying in my mind in this endless loop.
I wish I stopped thinking about him so much, because he's probably in a better place right now.
He did what he did to get what he wanted, which was to get rid of me as soon as possible. It doesn't matter how hurtful, how unexpected, how clumsy his execution was. He did it so he could focus on work, so he could find someone else that was more compatible, could connect more with him, someone that he could fall in love with.
That person isn't me.
I can't bear it when I'm alone with my thoughts and memories.
I hate how much I let things get to me, because he's the fucking jerk in this. He's the one that should be this torn up, because he's lost a lot more than me. He lost a woman that has her strengths (and weaknesses, yes I know), was understanding, minimal drama, willing to compromise, communicate and deal with problems head-on.
But still, a tiny part of me wishes I could turn back time. Start fresh, do it right, with what I know now.
But does he still deserve me, though?
I feel so hollowed-out, so empty. Like there's this perpetual, stormy rain cloud of sadness hovering on top of me, from morning to midnight, drenching every half-smile that I pull up, shading out every random light-hearted thought that I have.
Some days, it's like the world's gone out of colour.
If for every tear I shed, I'd get over him faster, I'd cry so hard 'til I break my bones.