LOVES DAISIES

After 32 years, 6 relationships and 5 break-ups with me always being the dumpee (can't count Jason coz he passed away) you'd think by now I would know how to cope with heartbreak.  You'd think.  But I don't.  I guess it just goes to show that no matter how old we get, we'll never truly be old enough to know better.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that each relationship is different, taking into account that each of them happened with different people, at a different time, when I was a different person.

But when you're always the dumpee and never the dumper, it's all pretty much the same, really.  It's someone declaring that they have changed the way they feel about you, and not in a good way.  It's someone giving up on you, and the emotions that stem from someone you love walking away from you is never pretty.  When someone you deem important to your life slams the door to their heart in your face, it is nothing short of painful.

And just the same, just like the others who have left you, you are left with nothing to do but grieve, pick up the pieces and charge everything to experience.

I've been going out a lot lately.  A little too much.  I think am terrified of being alone.  So I grab every opportunity to indulge in a few hours of revelry so I can consign myself to oblivion.  As an attempt to forget, even for awhile.  Yet even when I'm talking to someone, drinking or partying, my real feelings always finds a way of resurfacing.  It also doesn't help that I see him in little mundane things like green ribbons, burritos, hard-bound books, coke and my earphones.  I've also been trying to not use the nice pen he gave me.  Just so I can forget.

And then there's that magazine article about my relationship with him that's supposed to come out this month.  And I've been praying that by some stroke of luck, they decide not to publish it.  I don't need another reminder.    

I also stopped communicating with him.  It's been over a week now.  I'm struggling.  Everyday, I fight a battle with myself because a huge part of me wants to pick up my phone, call him and ask him how he is.  And the only thing that stops me each time I get the urge to call or text him is this: He hasn't gotten in touch with me either.

When we broke up, I told myself that I should be okay in a week.  But it's been close to 2 weeks and though I no longer cry every 15 minutes, sadness has not eluded me.  I know I will get better, it's just a matter of when. 

I don't think I'll ever really be old enough to know better. And maybe that also means that I'll never be old enough to love.  Again.