There are some breakups that are like getting a shot: you think they’re going to hurt a lot worse then they do. But, really, it’s a pinch, it makes you stronger, and it’s over.
There are some breakups that feel like are like bad burns: they hurt A LOT, you don’t necessarily see it coming, and it’s sore for a while after.
Then, there are the broken bone break-ups. Yeah. You’re broken. You get hurt. Maybe at first you don’t realize you broke something, in shock from the pain. You think everything’s fine and then it hits. Maybe you can get yourself to the doctor and maybe you need help. You’re out of commission for a while. For weeks, everyone asks how you’re doing. You need help doing things, and it’s going to take a while to recover. Even after recovering, the damage is done. You may have scars, slightly disfigured bones, or extra pain when you hit it.
So to the ex that broke me:
I have panic attacks when I see you, or think I see you.
I have blocked and unblocked you on my phone and Facebook multiple times.
I still remember that you gave me my favorite Christmas gift.
I don’t know how to interact with our mutual friends.
When people asked about you, I’d fight back tears and explain as politely as I could that it didn’t work out.
I still have your T-shirt.
I talk more highly of you than anyone. I also tell everyone you’re an asshole.
I miss your pet.
Your new girl is stupid. But also wonderful and I’m so happy for you and hope everything goes well.
I miss how cuddly you would be when you were too messed up.
You have to know that I loved you because of every way I let you hurt me.
Despite the fact that I ended things with you, I still love you. Most days I think I hate you, but as Big Sean says, “girls only say ‘I hate you’ to the guys that they love.”
Don’t talk to me.