So for the second time in a little less than a year, someone who isn't my boyfriend broke up with me. Unlike last time with La Dispute Guy, this one can't be called a noyfriend, though, because M was really never anything more than a lover to me (albeit the most amazing one to ever take up 80 inches of my bed, and boy do I feel sorry for the guy who comes next. Actually, fuck the guy who comes next. Who I really feel sorry for in this scenario is me). I wish I could say that also unlike the last time with LDG, this time it doesn't hurt, M being nothing more than a lover and all, but you guys know me well enough to know that I can't.
You guys know me well enough to know I'm currently right around the stage of wanting to die, the one with the feeling of nausea in my tummy and a heavy feeling in my throat and chest, the one where I get all teary at just a thought, the accidental reading of a car registration confirmation while scrolling through my texts, or even the opening of my fridge on which sits this:
What's April 30, Day of the Happy aka Dia del Feliz? you ask. The first time Kelly, Rodoshi, Sumaya, and Sam were ever simultaneously happy about a boy except in Sumaya's case her boy was a girl because she's gay, but you get the point. The four of us sat there during lunch at 12:50 on April 30, the day after M and I met, right after he'd sent the Todo a su tiempo text that would have a much bigger effect on my way of thinking and my life than he ever could have known, and marveled at the anomalous situation. This day has to be commemorated, one of us said (I don't remember who, but surprisingly, it wasn't me), so Rodoshi wrote it down and put it up on my bulletin board so we wouldn't forget. When I cleared my room out at MHS in the middle of August--three and a half months later and surprisingly we were all still happy over the same boys except Sumaya's girl in place of a boy--I moved it to my fridge, and it's made me really happy every day. Today, though? The same way Sumaya's boy is a girl instead of a boy, my happy is complete and utter despair.
The thing about being broken up with by someone who's not your boyfriend, and I think I'm becoming expert enough at this situation to know what I'm talking about, is you're the only one who experiences anything sad, and while I'm on the only-one-who-experiences-anything-sad track, I have to say the break up isn't the only thing to which it applies. If the person you're seeing isn't your boyfriend, it goes to reason that you're not his girlfriend, so he doesn't have to take any of your shit. This means you don't give it. If something bothers you, you don't say anything because you're really hoping inside that one day the not boyfriend/not girlfriend thing might be a thing of the past, and, well, giving shit? Not the way to make it happen. The whole time you're not dating the boy who's not your boyfriend, you're also doing everything he could possibly want, not just because you want to because he makes you so happy you feel like you could burst, but for the same reason as above. As a result of this mixture of circumstance, the boy who's not your boyfriend, the one who never planned to be anything other than a boy who's not your boyfriend and therefore didn't get attached nor do any boyfriend things for you yet got every single bit of your best girlfriend parts because, well, frankly, because you're a hopeless and hopeful idiot who hasn't yet learned, never experiences anything sad, neither during nor after the non-relationship.
In short, like I used to cry to my parents: it's not fair. It's not fair, and I think I can't do it anymore, at least not for a while. Pretty much right after I got over LDG, I went to M, and yes, I was so mostly happy for four months it was like I was living another person's life, but really that's only because it takes so little to make me happy, and if I look back at the entire situation objectively, I shouldn't have let myself feel so much which of course where I'm involved is like saying I should no longer pee, and so the only solution is an indefinite moratorium from boys.
(This should be a blast.)
This morning, I cried, and when I say I cried, baby, did I cry, to my Snapchat followers, and I'd apologize but if they want me cute in my undies, they've got to put up with the occasional puffy-faced tears, not just about M, but about the pizza and pancakes and holiday morning French toast that were so long a part of my life but no longer are. Believe me when I say you don't want to see the whole thing, but the details really aren't important, and it came down to this in the end:
As you can see, I'm not in a good place. I feel wretched right now. Wretched, and lonely, and devastatingly sad.
But
I suppose I do have to say that if, like I asserted in this morning's snap, eventually everything is gone, that means this sadness one day will be, too.
You guys know me well enough to know I'm currently right around the stage of wanting to die, the one with the feeling of nausea in my tummy and a heavy feeling in my throat and chest, the one where I get all teary at just a thought, the accidental reading of a car registration confirmation while scrolling through my texts, or even the opening of my fridge on which sits this:
What's April 30, Day of the Happy aka Dia del Feliz? you ask. The first time Kelly, Rodoshi, Sumaya, and Sam were ever simultaneously happy about a boy except in Sumaya's case her boy was a girl because she's gay, but you get the point. The four of us sat there during lunch at 12:50 on April 30, the day after M and I met, right after he'd sent the Todo a su tiempo text that would have a much bigger effect on my way of thinking and my life than he ever could have known, and marveled at the anomalous situation. This day has to be commemorated, one of us said (I don't remember who, but surprisingly, it wasn't me), so Rodoshi wrote it down and put it up on my bulletin board so we wouldn't forget. When I cleared my room out at MHS in the middle of August--three and a half months later and surprisingly we were all still happy over the same boys except Sumaya's girl in place of a boy--I moved it to my fridge, and it's made me really happy every day. Today, though? The same way Sumaya's boy is a girl instead of a boy, my happy is complete and utter despair.
The thing about being broken up with by someone who's not your boyfriend, and I think I'm becoming expert enough at this situation to know what I'm talking about, is you're the only one who experiences anything sad, and while I'm on the only-one-who-experiences-anything-sad track, I have to say the break up isn't the only thing to which it applies. If the person you're seeing isn't your boyfriend, it goes to reason that you're not his girlfriend, so he doesn't have to take any of your shit. This means you don't give it. If something bothers you, you don't say anything because you're really hoping inside that one day the not boyfriend/not girlfriend thing might be a thing of the past, and, well, giving shit? Not the way to make it happen. The whole time you're not dating the boy who's not your boyfriend, you're also doing everything he could possibly want, not just because you want to because he makes you so happy you feel like you could burst, but for the same reason as above. As a result of this mixture of circumstance, the boy who's not your boyfriend, the one who never planned to be anything other than a boy who's not your boyfriend and therefore didn't get attached nor do any boyfriend things for you yet got every single bit of your best girlfriend parts because, well, frankly, because you're a hopeless and hopeful idiot who hasn't yet learned, never experiences anything sad, neither during nor after the non-relationship.
In short, like I used to cry to my parents: it's not fair. It's not fair, and I think I can't do it anymore, at least not for a while. Pretty much right after I got over LDG, I went to M, and yes, I was so mostly happy for four months it was like I was living another person's life, but really that's only because it takes so little to make me happy, and if I look back at the entire situation objectively, I shouldn't have let myself feel so much which of course where I'm involved is like saying I should no longer pee, and so the only solution is an indefinite moratorium from boys.
(This should be a blast.)
This morning, I cried, and when I say I cried, baby, did I cry, to my Snapchat followers, and I'd apologize but if they want me cute in my undies, they've got to put up with the occasional puffy-faced tears, not just about M, but about the pizza and pancakes and holiday morning French toast that were so long a part of my life but no longer are. Believe me when I say you don't want to see the whole thing, but the details really aren't important, and it came down to this in the end:
As you can see, I'm not in a good place. I feel wretched right now. Wretched, and lonely, and devastatingly sad.
But
I suppose I do have to say that if, like I asserted in this morning's snap, eventually everything is gone, that means this sadness one day will be, too.
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