10 days after the breakup, and I'm still quite the mess. It's a roller coaster ride. One minute, I think—no, I realize—that this is the best path, this is the right choice. We're so different; it would never work out. But the next minute, I'm nostalgic and recounting all the jokes we had, all the meals we cooked, and worst of all (or best? no, definitely worst), I remember the feelings. All the emotions and caring and affection and love that was brewing in my stiff, cold heart.
Every time I tell a friend my story, they all say the same thing: what a douche! And that makes me feel slightly better. I'm not a total lunatic. My feelings and my wants and needs are validated, justified. I'm being reasonable!
But it doesn't add up. If he's the douche, why am I still sad to be apart from him? If he's the idiot who's making a huge mistake, why do I feel like I'm missing out?
I always say this, and I'll repeat it to myself: There is no rush.
Why jump into a relationship unless you're 100% sure? Why in such a haste to put labels, start relationships, end relationships, to make things "official"? What is it official for anyway? For yourself? For others, so they'll keep their hands off? For your parents, so they'll be satisfied?
Tonight, I only have questions, but no answers.
