They suck, apparently.
It’s been over a month since I split with my ex-boyfriend and I’m still not really over it. At all.
In that time, he’s done cool stuff with his friends and he has even obtained a new girlfriend. I’ve just kind of cried a lot. I miss the sense of security I had when I was in his arms, or cooking with him, or even when he would stop by my house on his runs and bike rides. It felt so nice to be wanted, loved, to feel special and important to someone.
I could sense when he stopped loving me. Those were a lot of nights spent staying up in bed, pretending to be asleep, with my heart rate at a million beats per second and a small puddle in each eye. I’d tried to break up with him a few times in the month before that–for his sake, believe it or not (that’s another story). But I still can’t shake how terrifying, how unexpected it was that he would stop loving me. I never stopped loving him during our relationship. I still haven’t.
I’ve been trying to fight so many of my negative thoughts that have appeared as a result of the breakup. A main one is reconciling the idea that someone could fall out of love with me with my constant battle for self-love. Another is the loss of one of the best friends I’ve ever had–someone I felt so comfortable with that I never felt the need to hide any aspect of who I am from him. I don’t know how to feel about being discarded. I still want to be special to him–even if I can’t be his girlfriend, I want to be his best friend again. I know it’s impossible, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
Even with all of these things in mind, the absolute worst part is trying to get him out of my system. I think about him when I’m trying to sleep, when I wake up, when I get cold, when I need someone to talk to (ironically, the breakup has been the main reason for this as of late), when I see a joke that I want to share, and when I just need to see a face outside my family. I have to consciously remind myself that we won’t ever be the same, that some of the things I had looked forward to in our relationship will never come to pass. I can’t rely on him anymore. And although my feelings work to the contrary, I have no right to be jealous anymore.
I’ve had to adopt a new mantra. Whereas pre-split I used to tell myself, “You are loved,” I have since found that that particular sentence can be very hard to believe (after all, he told me he loved me after he stopped meaning it, so how can I trust that anyone loves me?). The new one is also a challenge, but it’s a necessary challenge, because without it I can’t ever move on.
I am not his failure to love me.
I am worth so much more than his love. He is, after all, the one who failed. The one who wasn’t willing to work things out. The one who didn’t care enough about me to fight his cowardice and tell me he was done. He’s the one who lied, who kept giving me an empty “I love you.”
I tried to keep him. I tried so hard. But in the end, he wasn’t worth the effort. And that isn’t my fault. Nothing I could have done would have made him stay. And that isn’t my fault. It’s his fault. He is the one with the problem. He is the one who threw me away. He is the one who loses.
He was the best boyfriend in the whole world until he stopped loving me. He was sweet, patient, cuddly, soft, honest, open-minded, kind, gentle, and maybe even a little indulging. In short, he did everything right. But it’s difficult–impossible, even–to forgive this one misstep. And maybe I don’t have to.
I will be loved again. I will find another friend like him.
I am not his failure to love me.
He is his failure to love me.
And that is not my fault.
Ciao for now,
Mikki (who, despite the odds, is in one piece)