I am trying my best not to be sad about the demise of what I thought was the best relationship of my life. The sad part to me is that this situation that was clearly based on a lie was the best thing to ever happen to me. That is, until it wasn't.
I don't know how I'm supposed to go on from this. I know I will go on from this, but I really don't know how to do it. I'm sitting here at home on a Friday night, and I don't know what to do with myself. Do I have something to do? Of course. I have laundry to fold, a bed to make, and a house to clean. Yet, all I can do is sit here and review what could've gone wrong.
I know that I did everything in my power to be the best girlfriend I could possibly be. I did everything I thought I should. Gave everything I had. And yet again...I'm alone.
Inasmuch as I know that it's not my fault, I can't help but wonder how awful am I. What's so horrid about me that no one wants to treat me well? Am I that ugly? Does my breath stink? Do I talk too much? Straight up -- a breakup like this one leaves me to question everything about myself yet again.
My friends who love me would probably tell me I'm crazy to think anything bad about myself. But when you look at all your failed relationships, you are the common denominator. You have to wonder what part you played.
Was I too trusting? Did I believe too easily? Maybe I just looked like I'd fall for the okie doke. Either way, I was the mark. The pansy. The one who took the fall.
And what did he get out of this? A fool who loved him more than he deserved. A chick who thought by paying the bills and the rent and every other thing, she was investing in her future. The future he said he wanted...marriage, family, kids, etc. He said it would be me and him. He said he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. As much as I know I've probably forgotten between then and now, I know I didn't make that up. He said those words to me. He whispered so many sweet things to me in the mornings...things that made me think we had what it takes to make it work.
I believed him. I believed in him. I really thought he meant what he was saying to me. In my love-infested mind, I thought, "Why would someone say things like this if they don't mean them?" How was I supposed to know that it was all conditional? Or worse, that it wasn't true?
Honestly, I think that's what makes this so awful to me. The lies. He said everything was real...until it wasn't. I say it couldn't have been real because when you use the words he used, you don't just change your mind.
Love is, and always will be, a choice. And I chose him because he made me think he chose me, too. That's the irony of it. Now I'm brokenhearted, left with memories that aren't real because all the meaning behind them is gone.
I don't know how I'm supposed to go on from this. I know I will go on from this, but I really don't know how to do it. I'm sitting here at home on a Friday night, and I don't know what to do with myself. Do I have something to do? Of course. I have laundry to fold, a bed to make, and a house to clean. Yet, all I can do is sit here and review what could've gone wrong.
I know that I did everything in my power to be the best girlfriend I could possibly be. I did everything I thought I should. Gave everything I had. And yet again...I'm alone.
Inasmuch as I know that it's not my fault, I can't help but wonder how awful am I. What's so horrid about me that no one wants to treat me well? Am I that ugly? Does my breath stink? Do I talk too much? Straight up -- a breakup like this one leaves me to question everything about myself yet again.
My friends who love me would probably tell me I'm crazy to think anything bad about myself. But when you look at all your failed relationships, you are the common denominator. You have to wonder what part you played.
Was I too trusting? Did I believe too easily? Maybe I just looked like I'd fall for the okie doke. Either way, I was the mark. The pansy. The one who took the fall.
And what did he get out of this? A fool who loved him more than he deserved. A chick who thought by paying the bills and the rent and every other thing, she was investing in her future. The future he said he wanted...marriage, family, kids, etc. He said it would be me and him. He said he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. As much as I know I've probably forgotten between then and now, I know I didn't make that up. He said those words to me. He whispered so many sweet things to me in the mornings...things that made me think we had what it takes to make it work.
I believed him. I believed in him. I really thought he meant what he was saying to me. In my love-infested mind, I thought, "Why would someone say things like this if they don't mean them?" How was I supposed to know that it was all conditional? Or worse, that it wasn't true?
Honestly, I think that's what makes this so awful to me. The lies. He said everything was real...until it wasn't. I say it couldn't have been real because when you use the words he used, you don't just change your mind.
Love is, and always will be, a choice. And I chose him because he made me think he chose me, too. That's the irony of it. Now I'm brokenhearted, left with memories that aren't real because all the meaning behind them is gone.
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