The Break Up

It’s about to be a new year, and because of that I need to get this off my chest.  I broke up with my partner back in November, and I’ve been doing my best to heal and move forward.  I wrote this piece the day he moved out, and I want to share it.  One, because it is the raw emotions I was feeling at the time, and two, because I think finally sharing this will act as the finale and allow me to start 2018 with a fresh slate.  I think it’s very fitting, this photo is the first one we ever took together last New Years Eve, a symbolic circle if you will.


The day you moved out, I didn’t want to come home. I knew your stuff would be gone, but I didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did. I walked into our room and I saw relics of our relationship.  Gifts, artwork, and photographs, simple things that stung even more. I felt like you abandoned every single part of us when you left. Did you even take anything with to remember us by?

I think it’s all here, the necklace I got you for your birthday that match the earrings I have. Or the set of bowls I got for you when I went to my family’s village in Pakistan. The sunglasses, the stupid metal sign that says potato, the painting I bought you, and the candle I got you for our one year anniversary.  

I wish I could say it feels fair, you have to move out and move across the country, and I get to stay here and continue on with my life. But did you really have to leave every single piece of us behind? Why do I have to suffer and remain with the broken reminders. You didn’t cry, not even once.  You didn’t shed a single fucking tear for us, and here I am, blubbering like a child. I never cry, and your stupid smiling face that last time we hugged made me want to smack you. 

I know it will get better, and that this feeling will fade.  You told me that yourself, reassuring me, over and over that I would be okay. I know I made the decision, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you or miss you. It all happened so fast. I can still smell you on the pillow beside me. I haven’t slept alone in almost a year.  The first night was the hardest, the quiet snores and breathing that weren’t there anymore, or the warmth on my back. Tears stained my cheeks and I drifted in and out of consciousness, never truly sleeping as silence suffocated me.

The more I think about us though, the more I feel guilty. Did I make the right decision or did I just jump to a conclusion. Were we meant to be together and I just didn’t fight for us? But no, I think we weren’t right from the beginning. I think I liked the idea of being with you, more than actually being with you. You were my first true shot at monogamy, and it just wasn’t for me.  You were sweet and funny and loving and wonderful, but that wasn’t enough.

At our core, we weren’t right for each other. I like to read books, and talk about politics, but you like to smoke and play video games. Anytime you said something ignorant it took all of my willpower to not come down on you. I want to do so much more with my life and push myself to be better, and you’re content with where you are. It’s no one’s fault, we just were never the fit we needed to be.  I didn’t grow or become a better person through our relationship, I think I just sort of lapsed into content latency.  With more time, I would have grown to resent you, resent us.  That wouldn’t have been fair.

I’d never been in a serious relationship, but I don’t think what we were doing was good, it wasn’t healthy.  You were in one place and I was in another and it felt like two planets drifting farther and farther away from each other.

Now that enough time has passed, you were right.  I stopped crying and I do feel better.  It doesn’t hurt as much to look at relics of what we once were, and I’ve honestly thrown many away or donated them.  It’s a slow process, but I’m healing.

I don’t regret spending a year of my life with you. I was happy and I tried something I never thought I would. But it’s done, we’re over, and I am going to move on with my life and my career. I’m not a perfect person, I never have been. But I’m a complex and unique individual who needs to be stimulated emotionally and physically by the world around me, and that’s what I’m going to fucking do.  I’m going to live.

I won’t apologize for my decision, but I do genuinely hope you’re happy and healthy.

Thank you, for loving me, and putting up with me for so long. I hope things are going well, I love you. Goodbye.


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