It’s just emotions, taking me over…

It’s over and done, but the heartache lives on… inside. And who is the one you’re clinging on instead of me, tonight? And where are you now? Now that I need you. Tears on my pillow. Wherever you go.

You’ll never see me fall apart…

Ah. November 29th, here you are. Again! Okay, that’s not fair.

Once upon a time in a time far far away there was a girl suffering from the deepest heartache she will ever endure in her entire life. I mean, EVER. I mean guys, it was painful to breathe. I may be over exaggerating but I mean, according to memory… maybe it was because it was my first real heartbreak and I gave him everything only to be, in the end, ditched and lied to and it was awful. But what did I really expect? We were kids and I think at that point, I had forgotten that. You don’t find the love of your life at 16. I mean, maybe you do, but most don’t.

There was a time when the 29th of every month killed me. I refused to do anything. I wouldn’t go to school, I would call out of work, I would lay in bed and literally sleep all. day. long. For about two years. I kid you not. All my friends gave me the same advice when I needed to know how to let go — keep yourself busy. So I took 8 classes in high school (including an early morning Saturday class) and worked two jobs, one was 6 days a week after school and another was one day a week between school and my main job and yet, with all that going on… it didn’t really help. I still spent the very little free time I had thinking about him. And I don’t know, maybe I just wasn’t ready to let him go. At that time I thought I was never going to be ready to let him go but I didn’t understand why it was so hard since he obviously didn’t care about me. Sure we were “friends” but in private. He didn’t want anyone knowing we were friends, not even our mutual friends. So, I mean. And yet I let him treat me that way.

And to make it worse we agreed to be friends with benefits which, not kidding, lasted a year and a half but he didn’t want to date me. Or let people know we were friends. Or anything. I pretty much let the boy who shattered me get away with it and use me. I figured you know, him wanting me for ten minutes was better than him not wanting me at all. And now, looking back, that’s the dumbest logic ever but at the time it made total sense in my state of denial. And yeah at times I thought he’d get over it and realize he was still in love with me — which trust me, he wasn’t.

The last time I saw him was 9 years ago when he slept with me and promptly shoo’d me out of his apartment after. I haven’t seen or heard from him since and I honestly don’t really feel like I’m missing out. The last time I saw him, I betrayed someone who did care about me because he betrayed me first and at the time that’s the person I was, obsessed with revenge. But this person, he made me realize that I was worth more than what my ex was doing. I was worth to be loved, truly loved. He got me over the most painful heartbreak of my life.

The number 29 doesn’t bother me anymore but because of that intense pain, it’s always going to tug just a little at me. Like I’m suppose to be remembering something but most of the time I don’t and I end up brushing it off.

I think tonight I’m thinking about it because my puppy is sick and he’s named after our acronym. I went back to the day we got him, to that summer and he was there. I remember how tiny Jay was and how fluffy and full of life and now as I was saying good night to him he looked so sad and defeated. He’s a strong pup, he always bounces back and even though he’s 11 now, I’m sure he’ll be okay. He’s gotta be okay…


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