Can I tell you a secret? I like telling people he broke up with me over a “text message.” Why? because for a moment in time, he’s an asshole. And I’ll let my friend then tell me the cliché things, and knock him down a few points, and for a split second I actually feel better. But the truth of the matter is this: he’s not an asshole. True, it was an incredible poor lack of judgement (& respect for me) texting me, but still, he’s not an asshole.

And I think that makes this harder. A nice, real, guy just suddenly stopped liking me. Me. Not my body, or the way I look, but me. I actually think this would be easier if I thought Matt cared about my size; I’d have a reason to blame; I’d have an excuse.

And I asked him if there was another girl… waiting for his response to pierce my soul. I could hate him then. Walk away. Let go. But there wasn’t. It was just me & my personality instead to blame.

And now I’m left sitting at home & doubting the person I am, not what I look like. This is so much worse. So much damn worse. If I had just said this, or done that, or this, or acted differently… if I just wasn’t me.

And I feel lackluster lately. In the real world and on this blog. I sit at my screen and want to write, want to tell someone, anyone, just how sad I am, but I don’t. Because what could I say? Hi there, My name is Liz and I’m sitting at home and having a pity party for myself. And because I’m trying to lose weight, it’s a wine-less party with no cheese cubes in sight.

Awful.

And people have said with time it’ll get easier. It hasn’t. That desire to talk to him, to text him, to let him know something about my day (like how my credit card was stolen), or hear about his day, his new school schedule, or upcoming plans… that desire just increases with time. 

I texted him today. I texted him words I swore to myself I’d never say, “I miss you.” And then I froze. And the minutes he took to respond felt like years. And I felt weak. Embarrassed. Stupid for feeling this way.

A breakup. It’s such unfamiliar territory for me. I don’t know what to do with myself, I don’t know who to put down as my emergency contact… I just don’t know. And I want to upload some of my Melbourne photos online, but do I add any of him? Of the places we went, the things we saw? And my Instagram photos with him in them; I feel sick when i see them; should I delete him? Pretend he didn’t exist? Again, I don’t know.

Today I wished May 7 (when I leave Melbourne) would get here faster. I want to stop being reminded of him. Stop thinking about him. Stop feeling so sh*tty about myself. Stop that feeling deep inside me from taking over. Today was a bad day.