Tag Archives: breakups

Not Sorry

I remember when
The tears would stream down my face
Instead of yours, dear.


Last Night

Well, really all of yesterday, I was on a productive roll. I finally caught up with the laundry (and what a relief that was!), filled out my Habit Tracker (though I haven’t successfully completed all habits in a day yet…practice makes perfect), cleaned up the kitchen, and probably had a pot of decent coffee for the first time in over three years. It’s so strange being here at my uncle’s house; I feel like I need to be doing something, anything productive at all times. I guess that’s a good thing.

I’ve woken up by 8 so far and gotten the girls ready for school and made breakfast. My goal is to be up by 7:30 so we aren’t rushing to get everything done. Now, if only I could get to sleep before midnight.

I began watching Lucifer on Hulu. It’s quite humorous.

J finally texted me back. We’ve been bullshitting most of the day. I’m just happy to be speaking to him.

P, on the other hand, won’t leave me alone. My phone and my Facebook is getting blown up with all his notifications and all the times he tells me he misses me and he’s sorry and blahblahblah. Hindsight is always 20/20 I guess. All his posts on Facebook are depressing. I’m considering deactivating mine for a bit just so I don’t have to deal with him.

There Are Things 

I will miss about him. I focus on the negative but I know there’s a good guy in there; The guy I met first. He always made sure I was fed, even made me dishes upon request. He wouldn’t leave me stranded. He is still really good with the girls. My oldest absolutely loves him; My youngest is all about her mommy. 

But the amount of things I won’t miss seem to really overpower the good. I won’t miss when he thinks he’s playfully squeezing but it actually feels like he might leave a bruise. I won’t miss how, when we have sex, his body sloppily topples over mine. He puts his whole weight on me, lazily thrusts with no acknowledgment of the apparent pain in my face. I won’t miss how red his eyes get after a night of drinking (so, every night). I won’t miss having to drive to the store to get him things because he’s been drinking and can’t take himself. I won’t miss his terrible kisses. His mouth tastes like a keg and it’s so offputting. I won’t miss him stumbling over everything or him getting unnecessarily loud, both happily and angrily. 

He’s a good friend. A terrible boyfriend. Maybe in another life.

“Why Do You Look So Mad?”

He asked, like he didn’t already know. I shrugged my shoulders and he went to work. I’m mad because you keep trying to make things seem like they haven’t changed. You want to hold me while we sleep, you want to rub my thigh, squeeze my shoulders, grab my boobs, jiggle my ass. Have I not made it abundantly clear I don’t want to be here? I am ready to leave. I am here as a favor for you, so you can spend time with the girls before we’re gone. So why does it seem you’re more concerned about playing boyfriend/girlfriend?

I’m getting nauseous.