One week ago today, my heart was ripped out of my chest and smashed to pieces. One week ago today, I was sitting right here on my couch trying to hold it together, and failing miserably. One week ago today, I was crying because the man I love told me he didn’t want to be with me.
It’s been one week. 7 days. 168 hours. 10080 minutes. 604800 seconds. And yet, he’s still there in the back of my mind, haunting my heart.
I’ve been keeping it together, during the day at least. I’ve gone to work and done my job with a smile on my face but then, I get home and remember that he’s not going to ask me how my day was and I don’t get to look forward to seeing him on the weekend. He starts a new job next week and I won’t know how his first day goes.
I told my best friend that I didn’t want the way things ended between him and I to affect her friendship with him or to make things awkward for her because she will inevitably see him more often than I do. I know that eventually, I will have to see him around because of our mutual friends, and when that time comes, I will be mature and civil and I will not cause a scene, but I have absolutely no interest in ever being his friend again. I refuse to be friends with someone who treats me like I’m worthless and makes me question everything about myself. And if I don’t let him in, he won’t be able to hurt me. If I keep my distance, I can pretend that everything is fine and that I’m doing great. He doesn’t deserve to know how much he hurt me, how much power he has over me, how much I miss him. He doesn’t deserve my love, even though he has it all. And I sure as hell don’t deserve to be treated like this or to feel like this. I deserve better than him. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt that I can’t have him.