- All the people telling me they love me makes it worse
- I don't want music
- The ceiling or the wall becomes the only thing that I want to look at
- Even the thought of food makes me nauseous
- I feel like I'm just going through the motions, like I'm not even a person
- I'm so cold
day one — tuesday.
I woke up several times in the night. Every time I did, I'd think I was okay and then I'd remember your bullshit reasoning for breaking up with me and I'd want to throw something. Anything. My tissue box, the pillow, the tiny hotel garbage can, my phone. Eventually I did throw the pillow, and I yelled when I did it. Then I burst into tears and sobbed for what felt like hours. Gut-wrenching sobs that would've made me curl up even if I was standing. My mom was next to me, and she tried to comfort me by hugging me but I didn't want her to touch me because the only person I wanted was you, but you don't want me anymore.
Once I stopped crying, I stared at the wall in front of me. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel, and I didn't want to.
I fell asleep again for another hour or so, then woke up numb again, like everything was just a dream. Then I got angry again, and ranted about your refusal to communicate with me about important things in our relationship unless I brought it up first. I cursed god for giving me something so wonderful and so good and then taking it away.
I slept for three, maybe four hours total. When I had to get up, I was so nauseous I couldn't even think about brushing my teeth without wanting to vomit. I emailed my instructors and told them I wouldn't be in class. I spent half the day with my mom, going to go get things I needed, then she dropped me off back at my dorm and left. I had to go back upstairs and pass the place where you broke my heart. I dropped everything on the floor and crawled into my bed. The ceiling was the only thing I wanted to see. I wrapped myself up in my big fuzzy blanket and cried myself to sleep. I slept for half the day, and woke up okay. I thought I was fine but any time I saw anything about relationships as I scrolled through my phone, I lost it again, so I took to staring at the wall.
I texted you. I ripped you a new one, and when you told me that you felt like an ass, I told you that you should. I would've done anything for you had you just asked, and I felt so alone because the only person I wanted was you.
I finally ate around 7:30. My roommates took me to Panera, the place we had eaten just a week before, still so happy. I cried there, too. I managed to eat half a bowl of soup and a baguette, but I just wanted to throw it up afterward. I got so sick of everybody finding out and giving me inspirational shit and telling me they loved me but the only person I wanted to love me was you, and you don't. I considered dropping everything and moving back home or transferring to a different university. I called my mom and cried a lot. I considered taking too much sleeping medication so I'd never have to feel so hurt and alone ever again, but instead I took just enough to hopefully get me to sleep through the night.
day two — wednesday.
I woke up once, around 6:30. I climbed out of bed, drank some water, and went back to sleep. I tried waking up to go to class, the class I had with you, but I was so sick to my stomach that I couldn't even get out of bed, so I went back to sleep. I had plans to meet with a friend to do homework with but I was so nauseous I had to reschedule for after my next class, and I fell asleep again. When I woke up again, I wasn't nauseous, but I was after I brushed my teeth. I just felt numb and like nothing was real, but I got dressed and grabbed my backpack and walked to class. I loved being in class. I had to focus to do my work, and it distracted me from you.
I felt angry at you for not talking to me about something that we could've worked out, and I got so mad that I wanted to cry again, but I held it in because I knew it wouldn't change anything.
The campus minister texted me, saying he had the deal of a lifetime for me and asked me to stop by the church when I had time. I went after class, and he told me that I could go on the spring break trip for just $100 instead of the $600 it would cost for everybody else. I told him I had to think about it because it hurt to think about something we considered doing together. I almost cried in his office, but I didn't.
I went to the library with my friend for my homework. I had to find five definitions of religion, and the whole time I was doing it, I kept thinking about how much fun we would've had trying to find these books and searching for definitions. We would've had a conversation about them, and probably would've ended up making out in the stacks after we debated the different aspects of religion, because you always kept me on my toes, but instead I was with one of the most awkward people I know.
It was the first time I'd actually done something that made me feel productive since our breakup. I knew it was only the second day, but it felt huge because I didn't want to be human just a few hours prior. I was still angry, and I knew it would take some time to get over being mad, but it was a hell of a lot better than the constant crying.
It was seven by the time I finally ate again. I had a granola bar and the two cookies my little sister had sent with my mom. I felt nauseous after the first cookie, but I knew I'd never eat the second if I didn't do it then, so I ate it. One of my roommates ordered chicken, potatoes, and pizza, which I actually ate. Not much, but more than I thought I would, although I couldn't stand the smell of the chicken after I was done.
I missed talking to you. I missed the constant back-and-forth of waiting for a text back. I missed telling you random things about my day. But I also started to realize that there were pink flags I should've seen in our relationship. You never posted about me on social media, not once. I was always the one to initiate the serious conversations about things we needed to change in order to work. You were always on your phone when you were with me, and we never really did anything I wanted to do, but I'd go along with everything I could do when you asked.
I did my homework, I called my mom. I dropped a class, I attempted to do yoga with my roommates, and I took more sleeping meds to help me get to sleep. This time I didn't want to take more than I should've. I laid out my clothes so I wouldn't have to think too much about seeing you again in the morning.
day three — thursday.
I woke up fine. Tired, because I'd stayed up until probably one, but I had to get ready. Emotionally exhausted, because I'd been put through the ringer the past two days. I had dark circles under my eyes, so I decided to put on makeup so you couldn't see how much you'd actually hurt me.
I got to class exactly at ten. I refused to look at you, instead choosing to really focus on the lesson. Once we got to a partner activity and you were across the room, I let myself look at you, and you looked exactly as you always did. I felt like I was going to pass out, probably from how little I'd been eating along with the anxiety of being in the same room as you again.
I left class early so I wouldn't have to walk near you since I knew we'd be going to the same building.
That class took focus, which didn't help me understand the material, but it kept me distracted from thinking about what I'd say to you if I got the chance to talk to you in person.
My next class was the class I hadn't been to yet, since I added it after the semester started, and my instructor just talked about himself the whole time. All I wanted to do was text you about how much I wanted to walk out or call him out on how this had nothing to do with the class, but I couldn't bring myself to even attempt to start a normal conversation with you.
Throughout the whole day, the only thing I kept thinking was how I don't know how to be friends with you. The first eight weeks of knowing you was getting to know our group of friends, and then the rest was me being able to call you mine.
I left class twenty minutes early, long after realizing that I wasn't going to learn anything about American Government this particular day.
I texted you. I told you I wanted to be friends but I didn't know how and you told me that it's the same as how we were but without being physical. That the only difference between us and my "brothers," the two boys I had absolutely no recollection of ever not being friends with, is that you and I "made out and stuff." I told you that you were wrong. What I didn't tell you is that that hurt, because I thought we had been so much more.
We decided to talk. In person, at 9:30. We'd meet under the bridge that goes over the coulee and walk. I started it off by asking questions, and you walked too close to me. Every time I got near you I had this urge to hold your hand and I caught myself before I reached for you, but I almost didn't. I told you not to walk so close to me, and you took a step to the side. The sidewalks weren't always shoveled, and a lot of the time we walked one behind the other, the snow crunching beneath our boots. It was on one of these sidewalks that you stopped me. You had told me that you were worried about subconsciously taking me on as a project to "fix" my anxiety, and I was angry because that was the reason I didn't want to be with you in the beginning. I didn't want to hurt you because of my brain not producing enough chemicals but you'd told me you didn't care about it, that you wanted me anyway.
I was walking in front and practically shouting that if that's what you'd been worried about, you should've told me, because that's how relationships work, and you stopped me. I turned around, still furious, and you had tears in your eyes. You looked lost. You told me that you broke up with me because you didn't think I should've trusted you as much as I did, and I told you the exact same thing that someone had told me when I said I didn't want you to like me: that whether or not you wanted it, it was there anyway, and it's not your decision to make.
We agreed to try to work it out. You wanted to work on trusting yourself not to hurt others, and I wanted to work on my faith with someone who was more confident in theirs.
You told me you love me. You kept talking after you said it and I didn't know what to do with my body so I stayed as stoic as possible but I had butterflies. They were everywhere, and I felt like I could do anything. Those words made me more happy than I had felt in a really long time, and in that moment, I was invincible.
day eleven — friday.
You told me you didn't love me.
day thirty-one — thursday.
I still hate myself for loving you. I hate that I allowed myself to think that you actually wanted to give us a second chance. I hate that I'm still angry with you. I'm so sick of being angry.
I think about our whole relationship. All my screenshots of our texts, when you'd interrupt me in the middle of a sentence by kissing me (which I hated, but now I miss more than anything), when you'd interrupt me in the middle of whatever I was doing by kissing me (which you once told me you thought was the funniest thing, because it was often when I was brushing my hair and I had no idea what to do with my hands), how it felt to hold your hand, to curl up next to you, to fall asleep listening to your heartbeat.
I think about the way we just fit perfectly together when we hugged, with your arms wrapped around my shoulders, mine wrapped around your middle, my head turned to the side so I could hear your heartbeat and your head on top of mine, how I loved the feeling of your tummy against mine and how I never wanted to let go just because of that.
I think about how every time we kissed it was like the first time, except after the first, I knew what to do. Every kiss was just as exciting and nerve-wracking and fun.
I miss holding your hand. How our fingers fit perfectly together when they were intertwined and when you rubbed my hand with your thumb when they weren't, how you'd squeeze my hand randomly or pull it up to your lips to kiss my fingers. I miss it all.
I miss you, even though I still have you, because "just friends" is something you think we can do and that I'm willing to try because I can't lose you, but I miss you so much that it might be my only option. But every time I look at you, all I can see is every reason why I fell in love with you and more, and I don't know if I can ever stop loving you like you never loved me.
day 95 — friday.
I don't know who we are anymore. We're friends, but I feel like that either isn't enough or it's too much.
You've been more honest with me. I don't know why that was so impossible for you when we were together but I almost hate it now because it means that we're still so close. You tell me things that you won't tell anyone else and I don't know why. Why do you want to keep me around? Why is your best friend someone who was once in love with you? Why me? And I know I've asked you time and time again but I feel like you haven't really answered the question, or haven't even admitted the real answer to yourself, because like it or not, I know you. I know that what you've told me isn't the whole truth, even if you don't.
day two hundred and sixteen — monday.
I don't love you anymore. I haven't for a long time.
I'm starting a new relationship that I'm so excited for, and reminiscing on ours. I was talking to a friend about alternate realities, and she said that there's an alternate reality where we're still together, and there's one where we never were. It got me thinking about how I wouldn't like either of those realities, because I wouldn't have had the same experiences that helped make me who I am. It also got me thinking about how you're still in love with your other ex, but that you never loved me. I don't have any feelings for you now, but I remember what they felt like, and I don't know how you couldn't have felt the same way.
day two hundred and eighteen — wednesday.
I still can't let you touch me, and because of that, I'm scared to let him in, the way I did so easily with you. I know he's scared that I'm going to wake up one morning and want you instead of him, and I'm scared that the potential end of this new relationship is going to hurt the same way that the end of ours did. I need to remember to breathe, to remember what I learned from our relationship, and to let go of my fears so I can let myself fall again. I might hit the ground and get hurt, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.
If I could change anything that happened, I wouldn't, because it made us who we are. The ups and the downs, being on top of the world and then hitting the ground, it was all worth it, because I got back up again.
Thank you.
