Love is a fickle mistress — it’s an amazingly frustrating thought to think about being with someone for so long, only to have them carve a knife through the flesh of your chest to expose the bloody white bone of your rib cage, slowly and meticulously break each costae verae while your wide awake — grinning as they finally uncover the long awaited treasure of the rapidly beating heart. Not any heart; your heart. This has been my life the last four months. Recently, my ex made a blog about our break up, so let’s chat. Shall we, begin?
It’s has been 3 months since, I have moved back to Las Vegas with my beautiful, now ex, girlfriend by my side, I was ready to take on the world and more, because I have her love and support. Unfortunately that’s when things turned a sour — the type of sour you get from your first warhead as a kid — we broke up a month after we touched down in Vegas. Now, you may be asking, why did y’all break up? I will admit that’s my fault. I made the atrocious decision of not continuing my education and lying to my parents about it for a little over a year. When it finally came time for me to tell them, they were angry. That is an understatement, I’ve never disappointed my parents that much — something a child should never do, your parents only want the best for you. The worst part about it — that entire year, I was more disappointed in myself than my parents could ever be in me. It was a constant battle between whether I wanted to live or just fade away, in the deep dark abyss where people just become memories of loved ones. The only thing that kept me going everyday was her. Not my parents, not my brother, not my friends. It was solely her. She was the best thing about my life, she was the first thought every morning and the last thought late at night. Every time I was with her, the days seemed to shine just a little brighter and the nights seemed to shimmer beautiful from the stars. She really made me feel specials.
(Here is where you wonder what went wrong)
I’m not perfect, I’m as far from perfect as you can get — I’m arrogant, selfish, stubborn; the list can go on for days. I’m not unaware of these attributes in me. The move to Vegas wasn’t a mutual decision between me and her. It was more so a command from my parents, and I’m an abiding son — it’s just who I am. I could of said no to my parents and pretend to be an adult; slowly working my way through life from one dead end job to another never being able to be financially secure or being able to stockpile money for a rain day. I would have to work my body to my bone, until they were a pile of just baron dust to survive, but this opportunity was a chance that I couldn’t pass up. My parents were willing for me to move back home and they would pay for my college. It was a real shot for me to give her the life that she deserves. The kind of life where we never have to worry about anything. One thing I did learn from my time away from college, life is hard without a piece of paper that demonstrates that you showed up to class everyday and can pass some test. I wanted to be able to provide for the future family, be able to let her enjoy all her hobbies that she never had time for because of how much she worked. This was our golden ticket, we could have it all. We just need to live in Las Vegas for two years, so I can get that paper and then the world was ours. Nothing could stop us, except for the fact that she didn’t want to move back. She liked our life in Reno, but I didn’t. Reno had this strangle hold on me, as if I was in a vice lock from the world’s Strongest man, inevitability gasping, as I gradually faded away. I was complacent. I wasn’t striving for anything. I was content with my 10/hr and 14/hr jobs working everyday of the week, but that’s not how I pictured my life. That’s not how I pictured our life.
So you have met someone new. That stung quite a bit there, Love. It only took you three days after we broke up to be with him. We were together for nearly three years. It took you three months with him to get engaged. I wish you knew the pain that caused me, but what good would it do for you to know, for the past three months it’s been a struggle to will myself outta bed — to look out of my window onto the brand new day attempting to stay positive, but the shine that you once made appear is no longer there. That it feels as if I’m living a life in a horrible sepia filter. No, it wouldn’t do any justice to how I feel.
With all of that being said, I’m not mad. Not even in the slightest. Who am I to stand in the way of her dreams? I cannot be mad that she has found someone else. If he makes her feel, even in the slightest way, like she mad me feel, I’m happy for her. There’s a bittersweet moment in life when a chapter ends with someone we love; the storm approaches — it’s calm but unnerving, but when it hits, it never seems to want to end, with the high winds of rage and the false hope of light rain, only to be beaten down and battered until the grand finale. Well, this is my grand finale I’ve have been broken down, tattered, I look at least 5 more years seasoned, but the storm has finally past. I can start the rebuild process.
– H.C. Gilson