The Break-Up

I tried to think of a more subtle title, but couldn’t. There’s nothing subtle or artful or profound in the end of what was once a beautiful relationship. And I’ll be honest – it was the best relationship I’ve ever been in, to date. She was so incredibly good to me in so many ways. But like so many good things, it came to an end. I’ve never been one to drag things out, so I ended it. I don’t think I’ll ever get over making her cry, but it had to be done. I’ve always believed that if you’re going to break someone’s heart, at least do it honestly. If nothing else, you’ll know you never lied to someone you loved.

It’s hard. I feel guilty for being sad, because it was my decision to end the relationship. Somehow I feel like I ought to be getting through this better. But that said, I’m doing okay. More or less. I’ve made myself busy for the sake of translating motion into meaning. And yet, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself. In those rare moments, when I’ve finished school and work and errands and anything else I could possibly stuff into a day, I sit down and get sad. For the past two years, there’s always been someone else on the couch with me. And it’s thoughts like that which bring me down. I always had her to watch a movie with, to have dinner with, to snuggle on. And doing everything by myself is always lonesome, and sometimes hard. Being around so much silence means I’m listening more to what is in my head, and I’m not at a point yet where I can say that I actually enjoy all of my own thoughts.

Yet, fear of being alone is never a good reason to stay in a relationship. I hit a point where I realized we were both trying so hard to be right for the other person. And at this point in time– about to graduate, figuring out grad school, figuring out life – I couldn’t factor anyone or anything into my life besides myself. And while it felt like an incredibly selfish thing to think, I realized it’s the first concrete decision I have ever truly made for myself. Breaking up with her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I know it was the right thing to do.

I can still say with certainty that my ex-girlfriend is one of the best people I know. I can’t even say “was”, in the past-tense, because she continues to be. Despite this whole ordeal, she has continued to be as gracious and kind as she can be, even though she’s sad. I worry a lot about whether she’ll blame herself for our relationship ending. What I wish I could say to her, what I wish I could say to every girl who has ever had her heart broken, is that just because it ended, doesn’t mean it failed. It doesn’t mean you failed. It doesn’t mean we failed. When a beloved shirt gets worn out and we stop wearing it, we don’t think that shirt has failed. It was beautiful while it lasted. It’s just that the daily course of existence sometimes causes things to fall apart. And while it hurts like hell right now, we’ll come out stronger and better.

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Early twenties, rugby-playing, bhangra-dancing queer. At a large university in a small town. Out to almost everyone that matters. Into dykey haircuts, good music, Lebanese food, and naps. Likes to hyper-analyze everything. Loves to cook, and more importantly, to eat what has been cooked. Incredibly loud and outgoing. Organizes drawers by color. Is both best-friends and worst-enemies with the Stairmaster. Often described as "intense". Wears hats with ear flaps and brightly colored coats. Active tea-drinker, flax-seed-consumer, and cellular-respirator.

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