How did we get here? It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
We had plans. We had dreams. We still had so much to do. I thought we had so much time.
Maybe one day we will meet again. So maybe I should be at peace with letting you go. I should just let the universe do its trick. But baby, I’m afraid we’ll get lost out there.
I want to move on. I want to let you go. But I don’t want to stop missing you. I’m afraid to no longer miss you. It hurts to miss you. I want this pain to stop. But if I let the pain stop then you will be gone.
I know once I move on, what we were no longer will have life, like an ancient stone etched in the ground, you will become history. I’m just not ready to put your memory into the ground just yet.
Baby, I’m just not ready to move on just yet.
Your memory haunts me and comforts me at the same time. I wish I would stop thinking about you all the time. I wish you would leave me alone. But I just can’t give up that...
I’ll admit something...
I’m usually the last one to move on after a breakup. At least relationships where I’d actually fallen for the person. I rarely fall but when I fall, I fall fast, I fall hard, and it’s hard for me to get back up after I fall.
For this reason...
I’m usually the one still reeling after the breakup, tending to my wounds and processing the breakup while I watch my ex update her profile picture with someone new.
"I’ve been in love four times in my life. I’ve also been heartbroken four times as well. Go figure, right?"
I’m good at not giving a shit. I can not give a shit with the best of them. But every time I’ve ever given a shit in a relationship, I’ve eaten shit. Metaphorically of course.
Interestingly, there is a pattern that has presented itself.
The first girl I was in love with broke it off with me because she met a guy who made it clear to her that her and I were not the right fit together.