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When Heartbreak Doesn’t Disappear

Almost a year after my breakup, I come to terms with why I’m still hurting.

By Allie ThomasPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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My first love was somewhat stereotypical; we were high school sweethearts, inseparable, conjoined at the hip. I was head over heels infatuated with this boy who for the sake of privacy we’ll call Sam.

Sam wasn’t particularly good looking or charming, but he was witty and made puns that made me laugh so I figured he was worth a shot. I had been a little bit of a flirt when it came to high school boys so when Sam and I first started dating, no one expected it to last. Many people had explicitly told me of their shock, and several even expressed their disbelief that the relationship would last. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have doubts myself about whether one boy would keep me entertained for more than a few months.

I don’t know why he was different. But he was, and I was completely smitten. I wrote his name in hearts in my notebook during class. I texted him non-stop. We went on cute breakfast dates, and I met his family. Everything was sickenly sweet, but I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to, and trust me, I didn’t.

Sam told me some of his deepest secrets about his dad and mental illness. I told him about how sick my mother had been when I was younger and how terrified I was of losing her. I genuinely trusted him with everything. I loved him. Then high school ended, and so did we.

I was a complete wreck.

When I say wreck, I mean a disaster. I could not function without him.

He broke up me in a parking lot, and I got halfway home before promptly pulling over and throwing up. I didn’t eat for three days. I couldn’t sleep more than an hour. I distinctly remember waking up at 3 in the morning and writing an incredibly angry, 15-page letter while listening to angsty Maroon 5 songs. I addressed it and everything, although I had more sense than to send it. I told you, a complete wreck.

A month after we had broken up, I decided that social media was driving me insane, and after crying in the dark of my bathroom for twenty minutes, I finally unfollowed him on everything I could think of.

Six months after that, I re-followed him, just to “check up on him.” That was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. All the progress I had made was gone. I was back to square one, a complete wreck again.

It was too painful to watch him happy without me. Here I was, still crying over him, and it was as if he didn’t even care about me. He didn’t need me. He didn’t want me. He probably didn’t even think about me. It re-broke me.

Now it has been almost a year since he broke up with me, and I wish I could say it was better. I’m not going to lie to you though. I still think about Sam at night when I can’t sleep and I let my mind wander. I wonder if he wants me back, if he looks at our old pictures like do and wishes he could hold me like he used to. Maybe he still plans our future as he lies in the dark too.

I know it’s hopeful thinking. I know it’s probably unhealthy. I also know that I’m sick of it. I’m tired of wanting someone who doesn’t want me back. My worth does not come from one particular person, and I’m stuck waiting for me to reassure me that I’m beautiful and funny. I’m not letting myself move on. That’s not what I want to hear. I want to hear that you hurt me so badly that all of my pain is justified. It’s not though. I am putting myself through all this misery because I’m scared of finally letting you go and losing all hope of what could have been. I’m sorry Sam, but I need to move on. I know you already have.

breakups
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About the Creator

Allie Thomas

A college student who likes to be heard, even though she isn't necessarily right all of the time.

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