I’m going to tell you what I did after I found out about the “alternate option.”
At first, I laughed about it. I joked about it with my friends, trying to convince myself that this was all one great big joke. I said I couldn’t give a shit because he made a poor choice. Tough luck. He could’ve had (in reference to myself) this “fine, articulate piece of ass” but instead, he chose her.
I don’t care.
Then I cried about it. I cried but I would never admit to myself that the reason I was crying was because my heart was broken. No. My heart wasn’t broken I kept repeating. I’m just crying because I’m a little stressed. I’m just a little stressed.
After that, I started to come to terms with the fact that she was better than me. She was smarter, she was prettier, she had more interesting things to say, people liked her better than me. He’s probably happier with her than he would have been with me.
Later, I started apologizing. It’s my fault. I don’t know how exactly I hurt him. I don’t know what precisely I did wrong to him, but I do know it must’ve been my fault. I know that I deserved this.
More crying. This time I knew why I was crying.
Soon, I was just numb. I had already felt everything I needed to feel. I felt the denial, I felt the acceptance, I felt that crippling and unbearable pain, and then I felt nothing. The sky is blue, the grass is green, but life tastes gray. Music became noise. Nothing amused me. I got really good at faking smiles around this time.
I started to wake up. Slowly but surely, I began waking up.
I looked into the mirror one day and saw my glowing skin, my silky hair, my contagious smile. I liked what I saw.
I saw them together another day. I did feel a sting of pain but that all went away soon after. I felt all the emotions I needed to feel regarding this manner. It’s time I move on.
Day by day, I started thinking about it less. Started obsessing over it less. It doesn’t matter anymore.
This is something that means so little in the grand scheme of things. None of this will divert me from my greater purpose in life. None of it.
And then. After all of that. I became glad it happened. Because it made me better.
More crying. But these tears weren’t his.
This post first appeared at Thought Catalog
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