
Post Breakup Blues
I’ve been spending an alarming amount of time sleeping on the floor in my living room. Half because it’s right beside the air conditioner and half because the rug is really soft and comfy. You’re no longer here to hold me. That’s my fault but I’m still bitter. Leaving someone because it’s what’s right for you is so terribly difficult and uncomfortable.
I ended things sloppy. I can’t go back. I can’t undo. I just have to live and breath each morning. Even when I wake up and the pain in my stomach is unbearable but I still have work and school and a million other things that need my attention. I can’t wallow. I can’t grieve.
You’re like a drug that I keep wanting to pick up again. You hurt me and you’re unapologetic. You blame me for everything but I still want to rush over to your house and crawl into your arms for the rest of the week.
But I’m a bull and you’re a fish and I’m never letting you disrespect me again.
I’ve started to sketch people in my mind as we’re riding the bus home from class. My eyes make contours along the negative space between their bobbing heads. I trace every inch of the buildings around campus looking for the specific angle and measurement to make up the architecture of each wall. I’m not sure why I’ve begun doing this…a coping mechanism maybe? A distraction?
A girl stopped to compliment me today and I almost started crying…weird for the girl with no emotions.
I remember one time you wanted me to leave class to bring you a scantron because you’re a mess who became my problem. I deserve more.
I wanted to burn all the letters you sent me while I was away this summer in Rome but my friends took my lighter when they were consoling me the night after I decided I was done. My brother opened up to me, I spent time with a close friend…I don’t feel guilty, I feel free.
You had so much power over me that even after it ended I still cared about what you thought of me and my decisions. You controlled me and you loved that fucked up shit.
I was kind to you even when your words were daggers meant for harm.
I got the locks changed and you still attempted to come into my space uninvited.
I’m not a victim. I’m also not yours. I was great before you and I’ll be great after you. Goodbye generic boy name.
