Heartbreak, Stage Two.

The first day is always the hardest. I woke up today feeling more like myself and less like a heartbroken ball of emotions. Do I still miss him? Yes. Did I still check my phone expecting to see a ‘good morning’ text from him? Yes. Do I still wish things hadn’t ended the way they did? Yes. But I also know I can be okay without him.

I’m keeping myself busy this week – work and then gym every day, and I have plans with a friend Saturday night. It doesn’t change the fact that I wish I were seeing him this weekend, but it’s better for me to not be sitting at home wallowing on the couch, shoving my face with ice cream and watching romantic comedies on Netflix. I have to finish the next chapter of my thesis soon, so I’ll be dedicating some of my free time to that as well, and hopefully, a combination of all of these things will keep me from staring at my phone all day, waiting for a message that will never come, waiting for a sign that he misses me.

And so today, I got up, got dressed in an outfit that makes me feel great, did my hair and makeup and put a smile on my face. I even took an obligatory selfie as a reminder that I am doing just fine. (And hey, a little confidence boost in the form of some likes on social media never hurts.) I may still be sad, but I have lots to do, with or without him, and I refuse to let him hold me back any longer.

More than anything, today, I feel anger. Towards him for hurting me, towards myself for letting him. He said he never wanted to hurt me, but he is the one who started all this. He started talking to me again, he asked me out, he held my hand and kissed me, he sent me good morning texts and brought me flowers and told me I was beautiful. He made me believe that I could trust him, and then he changed his mind. And I’m the one who got hurt. So I am mad, and he deserves some of my anger, but not all of it. He may have broken my heart, but I’m the one who gave it to him to break.

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