My heart breaks in pieces Asymmetrical like your love Which never encapsulated me So very incomplete An inadequate coupling Forced into static molds Quite complex, fragmented Like the state I’m in Tears streaking the glass As I watch you pull away These heartstrings pulled taut Straining to follow behind Tethered to these fragments Fraying at … Continue reading in pieces
I broke up with a girl. On Valentine’s Day. Over e-mail. I know. It was bad. I knew it at the time, too, but I felt like I didn’t have any choice in the matter. She was obsessed.
Unrequited love, I know thee well old friend. I had been on the other side of it for so long it felt utterly strange to have someone want me in a way I didn’t want her. And as such, I had absolutely no idea how to deal with it. I know, this isn’t make you feel any better about what I did and how I did it, but I didn’t know another way.
We met at the Temple University Library, in the reference section. No, it wasn’t the premier hangout spot on campus, over by the microfiche machines, but it was where we both happened to be at the time. You see, she worked in that dusty archive, and I was a slave to the circulation desk upstairs, on a mission at the time to find something for a patron. I have no clue what it was after all this time, but suffice it to say I had a question about microfiche. And we met.
I would say that our eyes met across the room and we clicked instantly, but I would be lying. She was mousy and I was gangly. We both wore glasses so that meant we were supposed to be together, right? Obviously in her mind we were. I found out later that she had her eye on me since I first started working at the library, and had just been looking for her opportunity to talk to me. Oh boy.
It wasn’t like I was drowning in dates, though, so we went out. And it wasn’t horrible. Seriously, it ended in us holding hands, which was sweet, but which was also initiated by her, and I would have felt bad telling her no. That it was too soon. That I was completely unsure if there should be a second date. Yet there was, and a third, and a fourth. All because I didn’t know how to approach her to say that I didn’t want to be her boyfriend. Continue reading “I Should Have At Least Called”
I’ve been in enough breakups in my life, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’ve done more than my fair share of pulling back after getting in deep. I’m not sure if I had a fear of commitment, if it was something that genuinely bothered me about the other person, or if it was some combination or lack of these two. Or maybe if it was just that I felt I should be with someone, if I was merely co-dependent and they happened to come across my radar when I had no one and was out looking. And I feel bad after it ends, regardless of who did the breaking up with whom, but I feel so much worse when it’s the girl who has broken up with me, because in that instance I don’t have closure. What is it about us as human beings that makes us want to hit the heartbrakes when things don’t match our expectations?
It’s not you. It’s me.
Love is a two-way street, and if you find yourself traveling down a one-way there are usually so many signs before the inevitable end. Does he still spend time telling you how beautiful you are? Do the two of you still appreciate the time you spend together, or is it just habit? Those are big yellow flags telling you to slow down and observe instead of going full speed ahead thinking that the two of you are in the same place. People change. It’s disregarding or being oblivious to that change that creates the avalanche that can knock your relationship on its ass.
I just need my space.
This is probably one of the most devastating. I mean, space from what? Am I simply a leech who has sucked onto you and now you’re trying like hell to scrape me off? Is space just that important to you or does it mean I’m simply smothering you? I think this one is a huge cop-out because if you truly need space from someone you claim to love, then you should be able to talk about it and work out just when and why you need alone time. That can be worked out. But to say that it’s the sole reason you’re not going to be with someone you claim to love anymore, perhaps it wasn’t real love in the first place. Continue reading “Hitting the Heartbrakes”