It’s almost like experiencing a culture shock. When it’s all said and done, it changes so quickly. You won’t know how to prepare yourself for it. You really can’t prepare at all. It will start with him pulling out of your driveway before you make it inside the house. You’ll stand there, watching his tail lights disappear into the night. Without even realizing it, it will slip out under your breath, “He really doesn’t love me anymore.” You’ll wake up the next morning and hope it was a dream — but it wasn’t. You will remember the text you had waken up to just 24 hours earlier, and your heart will pound so loud you can hear it. “How did this happen?” Calling him will go straight to voicemail. You will hear, “I’m sorry, the number you dialed has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet,” a total of 15 times before giving up. Weeks will go by and the empty feeling won’t go away. You meet up to give each other’s things back. “Is that it?” he’ll ask you. You’ll fight back tears and smile at him, “Yeah, I guess so.” Then you’ll get in your car and drive away before he has the chance to. His mom will see you at the grocery store but she won’t say hello. She’ll avoid eye contact, and you will feel that rejection at your very core. He will wave at you when you see him. You’ll wave back and smile. It will be forced. It will hurt. His friends will talk about you. You’ll hear names being tossed around, like “psycho” and “stalker,” and you will have to smile at them anyway. Being the bigger person gets easier with practice. Eventually, you’ll look around and it will just appear to be normal again. “This is the new reality,” you’ll tell yourself. “And it is okay.”
except from an unfinished book #127 // “Breaking Up is Hard To Do” (via un-predictible)
