I know everyone is probably tired of hearing me talk about my ex. Hell, I’m fucking tired of hearing me talk about my ex. I’m tired of thinking about him, feeling things about him…just fucking tired.
I was getting better. I got to this point where I didn’t really care anymore. Where I didn’t feel the need anymore to glance around at his Facebook profile when his friends would tag him in something. Finding out that he’s engaged now was enough for me to throw in the towel on my creeping for all of eternity.
Until he contacted me.
Let me just go off on a tangent for a minute and say that the State of Michigan is a fucking joke. I have had two other addresses since I lived at his place. I have gone through the tedious experience that is standing in a long ass line out the door thirty minutes before the Secretary of State office opens to change my permanent address both times. Yet for some fucking reason, they send my new license plate tabs to my fucking ex’s house where I haven’t lived in over a year.
So he texted me. Which, good for him for letting me know where they were, because I was getting worried. He also said he had some shit around that was mine still and asked if I wanted it back (which, fucking duh, dude).
So I went there. On my birthday, no less. And I saw him, in person, and talked to him, for the first time in over a year. It was short and cordial, no small talk or anything (side note: he also did not wish me a happy birthday, even though he clearly had to know it was my birthday since he celebrated four of them with me), only lasted long enough for him to hand me my shit and for me to leave.
And it fucking hurt, y’all. It really fucking hurts.
I’m so angry at everything right now. How can it be fair that I end things because I’m not being treated very nicely, and I’m still here, unable to fully move on and feel for anyone else what I felt for him, yet he fucking gets to feel all this happiness? This is just a fucking testimony to what I had always feared to be true: I am the one who felt and who loved and who cared the deepest, while, even if he didn’t realize it or whatever at the time, I was just some placeholder until something better came along. And that’s who I am for every fucking guy who I get with. Just something to keep around until they’re bored or they find someone who they like more. And how can you not even want to have a conversation with me? Know how I’m doing? Idk man.
And I really don’t even care that he’s happy. And it’s not that I’m not in general content with my life. That’s not any of it. But it isn’t fair that he doesn’t have to wonder anymore and that I do. All I know is that I haven’t met “the one” yet. I don’t know when/if/how I will meet him. I have all this wondering to do.
I hear all of these people telling me “once you stop looking, it’ll happen!” Yet, I was never looking, I’m not looking at all now, and it definitely hasn’t happened. Not that I’m itching to jump into another relationship right now. But I just wish I could know when this bullshit emotional roller coaster is going to end and when I’m going to meet the one who will make me move the fuck on, or if I’m not going to meet him, just know when I’m going to stop giving a shit.
Stay tuned, I guess.