It always hurts again. Inevitably there's the moment when your heart finally gives up hope and realizes that it's really over, and how much they don't need you anymore.
For me it's usually about a week later. Sometimes it's worse than others.
The worst was the first time. Nine months of being in love for the first time, then the quiet, long breakup. But it didn't really, really hurt until then anguish of a week later when he told me he was sure we had made the right decision. Years later, and I still remember how it felt when he didn't say “I miss you” back.... and how it all sank into that corner of my heart that had been holding out hope and how I screamed and sobbed driving home on the freeway.... and then stopped for fries and ice cream.
There was the time I was shocked to see another boyfriend, with whom I had only been broken up for a few weeks, at stake conference walking out to his car holding hands with tall brunette in a red dress and heels. That time required a trip to a friend's house, pasta, and lots of ice cream.
There was seeing another boyfriend a few days after a breakup at institute, talking with him and feeling fine, good, even beautiful without him... until I drove home alone.
There was the late night talk in the SUV, there was the phone call that gave me hope and then we hardly spoke again, and then there's now.... now when I shouldn't want to hear “I miss you” or “I'm thinking about you too”. It's just that I'd much rather be enjoying those exciting first kiss, first "I love you" moments rather than dealing with the aftermath, the slow recovery.
What I really need is either someone else to kiss or some ice cream. I think I'll stick with the latter.
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