Touche. And for the record, I agree. So let me explain…
When I started this blog over a year ago, I had no problem baring my soul and laying all the ugly feelings and the embarrassing actions that went along with them out on the table for the world (or whoever happened to stumble upon this humble little blog) to see.
At a time when my breakup with my ex had been acted and reenacted so many times that my friends had ceased to care or even take my painful tears seriously, I found a place to vent unabashedly. But today, on the eve of my 25th birthday, I scrolled back through my posts from the past year and idled on the entry I posted March 8th of last year. I was heartbroken that I wasn’t going to be spending my birthday with my ex. And you know what? A year later, I still feel a little tinge of pain at the thought of spending yet another birthday without him.
And that is why I avoid writing. Because even though everyone on here understood at 3 months and 6 months and even 9 months how I felt to lose my first real love, I’m embarrassed that at approximately a year and two months later, random pictures of him and his new girlfriend posted by mutual friends on Facebook can send me into a dark fog of gloom for hours and potentially fuck up my day. That when I lay next to my boyfriend of six months, sometimes I secretly wish it was my ex laying there. I think you’ll judge me, because I judge me.
Because I should be better by now. But the truth is, I’m not.
