To the one(s) reading this,
There’s HEAPS OF STUFF I GOTTA TELL YOU, and I’d like to start with “The Breakup”.
So, yeah, I broke up with Bunnie (my boyfriend, just in case you didn’t get it), and, well, on a scale of I-Just-Had-Sex-With-An-Elephant and I-Just-Delivered-A-Baby-Godzilla, it hurt somewhere near an I-Got-Hit-In-The-Balls-By-A-Monkey.
No, seriously, in the past 3 weeks, I’ve gone through ALL possible phases of heartbreak.
I’ve bawled my eyes out at 4 in the morning, written shit that’s so sad it would probably make a hedgehog cry, marathoned 2 seasons of AWKWARD straight in one day, ate enough chocolate to fuel me for another couple of heartbreaks, AND created a breakup playlist I’ve been listening to on repeat.
And, if that was less, I’ve spent AGES in the shower, creating weird little scenarios in my head which won’t probably even happen in my destiny’s wildest dreams. In other words, I keep daydreaming in the shower till the water’s no longer warm, because of which I ended up catching a cold for the millionth time this year.
I’ve also gave the idea of getting back together with him, or a couple of my other exes, a thought at least a BAZILLION times, just to top it all off with a cherry.
There’s ONE good thing about it, and that is, that I’ve FINALLY learnt the lesson I should’ve learnt two years ago.
The last time I had gone through heartbreak, I had ended up feeling EXACTLY like a miserable, desperate, old whore whose boobs had lost their glory, and whose vagina was as loose as a fucked up hair tie.
On a serious note, it made me hate myself, and that’s when I became dependent on others for my emotions. I started believing that I was not beautiful, just because he didn’t think so, and I was desperate enough to accept any guy’s proposal. My first heartbreak lead me to do stuff I’ve regretted THE MOST.
And I guess I’m back on the same road, and now I see that it’s divided into two.
One leads to a wonderland which is just a mere piece of my imagination, and the other one, which leads me directly to the reality.
I can see Bunnie already hopping down the first path, just like the White Rabbit from Alice In Wonderland, but I’m not Alice, and this isn’t a fairytale, so I’d rather watch him go hippity-hoppity out of my life, than watch myself dippity-doppity destroy it.
Love (if it even exists),