it's the tightness in the chest that gets me... the dropping feeling in my stomach like i'm in a lucid falling dream that makes it hard. the tears you can't stop even though you try holding your breath and looking away from nothing. those are the really sad ones. not the uncontrollable sobbing because that isn't happening. just the really hurt, big drops that make your cat lean over the bathtub edge, the ultimate danger to a feline, to nudge into your face. i hate them. they happen on the subway, when i wake up and when someone tells me how amazing and loved i am.
this is shit. but i am not shit. thus, this will pass and i will live. some very mean and very immature fucked up things were said to me... this whole breakup is a fucking stupid circus that i've grown too old for. still, it doesn't make waking up any easier. i haven't talked to him. i'm not sure i should. i was , how they say, cool as fuck about all of this. i tried to put myself in his position. he is younger then me, and i tried to remember what i was like. and now realizing what an asshole i was, i am seeing what an asshole he was. and i can only hope he learns what i did. the golden rule. i also truly hope his ego stops taking him over. he's cute, but cute only gets you so far. when you're ugly on the inside, how long your eyelashes are don't matter one bit.
past all the tears, and stomach aches and refusals of food i am overwhelmed by the love and support i am recieving. when you're in it you believe what they say. that you're shit. that you are some kind of unlovable monster. i am not. i am loveable, i am beautiful and i am way too fucking good for this shit.
my parents did not raise me to be a fucking doormat and it's about time i realized it.