If I could muster the energy to be angry or bitter, I could probably share this story a lot better.
I want to bitch about you to the world. I really do. But I can no longer find that sort of dramatic emotion in me, just like how you no longer recall how our relationship came to an end.
When you decided that you loved me, your affection was an all-consuming. Unstoppable. Yadda yadda.
And I loved you. I loved you, I loved you, I loved you. It didn’t matter what you did to me. I was completely o-k-a-y, because I loved you. (And to be honest, till this day, I’m still uncertain if I can love another the way I loved you.)
But of course, once you realized that I was a real person – that I wasn’t one-dimensional, and that I had problems too – you changed your mind, and promptly fell in love with another.
You also conveniently pushed the second half of the year we spent together out of your memory. Fuckin’ ace.
For the next couple of years, I felt like zombie who was simply going through the motions of life. I wasn’t sure if I could ever become an individual person ever again.
I’d hear about you from time to time, and my heart would plunge each time I heard your name.
Long story short, dear reader, here’s the good news: Regardless of how pathetic and miserable you feel after a break-up, you’ll get over it. Maybe it’ll take days, or months, or even years, but eventually, there’ll no fucks left to give, and you’ll be okay.