The Future of Dating: Navigating Love in 2024
With the development of technology and the internet, virtual dating has grown in popularity in [...]
The day he left for his trip I came home to find him getting ready to leave. I immediately started to get emotional and cry, the next time I would see him would be our final week together. I wasn’t ready. Fast forward to the following week, after having been home alone with myself and my thoughts, I packed my things and headed out on the road. My vacation was planned in advance and I was making a familiar trip. He hadn’t come back from his trip yet, but he was due to arrive that night. We would just miss each other.
My vacation was fast, very fun, and put me on an emotional high that I hadn’t been on in a very long time. Happiness which I haven’t seen in a very long time. I went into the vacation fully aware that I was about to see a false reality, a moment of joy that had a strict expiration date.
I finally returned from my trip, walked in the door, and was hit with a wave of emotion and tears. I saw my ex. This was our final week together. I cried, my body shook, I was taken 500 steps back from where I once stood.
I had completely mixed emotions. I want my ex to feel the pain I felt and I want to hate him so much. Yet, I cannot bring myself to hate him. He tells me he understands my pain and that he is going through similar pain, but I would immediately call out the fact that the pain he feels is different than the pain I feel. I don’t question the fact he’s in pain, I’m sure he is, but his pain is in no way similar to mine. Perhaps that’s wrong of me to say, but in my current state of mind, it feels justified.
This is the final week together. My move begins in less than 7 days. I have already lost so much motivation to do the things that normally make me happy. My gym routine was hard to complete today and things I normally found to be fun were no longer that. Textbook definition of depression.
I’m not looking forward to this week, I know that it will be filled with more pain, more emotion, more tears, less eating, less smiles, more broken friendships, and above all else, a more broken me.
My move will be done alone. He will be on vacation again, out of state, while I am left to rip our lives apart and separate his from mine. A burden I get to carry out alone, without the familiar helping hand that once guided me when I would wander. As a strong believer in Karma, perhaps this is what I was given in response to how bad of a boyfriend I was during the relationship. Karma is a cruel and evil bitch.