WHO'S SORRY NOW?

When a blogger feels scorned, she has a big decision to make.  Either she can write a novel-long post documenting all the gory, intimate details that led up to her curling up in the shower with a bottle of bourbon last week (ensuring that everybody knows it’s HER that’s the most hurt in all this, not HIM…a classic victim power move, if you ask me), or she can spare the readers’ eyeballs by not disclosing the play-by-play of one of the worst experiences of her life, and just focus on writing about things that make her happy.  I chose the former first, and typed around 4,000 words that basically made no sense at all….repeating “I WAS WRONGED” a hundred and fifty times doesn’t exactly create a literary theme.  Bad writing aside, I was still prepared to dole out some Raggle-style justice, so I added in a couple more ‘douchebags’ and ‘assholes’ to the post, and got my gnarly, little Golem finger ready to hit ‘Update’……..but then didn’t.

I lived with my ex-boyfriend for five months after I broke up with him.  While we were trying to figure out our living situation, he dropped the fucking bomb on me that he’d be moving out of state, so in all my glorious wisdom, I decided to let him stay at the apartment so he didn’t have to move twice, and could save up some money beforehand. Huge (and retrospectively obvious) mistake.  It ended terribly.  We are both a little uglier now, and we’ve got a long road ahead of us to simply be on pleasant speaking terms.  However, now that I’ve had enough time to wallow in my own misery, I’ve realized that there is indeed a friendship to salvage.  We both deeply hurt each other, but I was so blinded by the final blow, that I failed to even see that my actions were the ones that caused this shit-show in the first place. 

Instead of embarrassing both my ex and myself, I’ve come to realize I don't need to explain exactly – in excruciating detail, no less – how my heart broke to convey to you that my heart is very broken. For those that know me, my actions have pretty much spoken for themselves:  I'm not eating.  I haven't smiled or written anything for months.  I'm listening to a lot of gloomy music.  These things take time to get over.  On the flip side, my cat is happier than I’ve seen her in over a year, my apartment’s a lot roomier, and that happy sense of exploration is slowly wandering back into my life again.  I like to imagine that in a few months, I’ll be hollering, “THIS TOWN NEEDS AN ENEMA!” while stumbling out of the bar with my girlfriends.  Well, I hope so, anyways.  Being depressed gets boring really quickly.

With all that out of the way (Thank. God.), we can now move back on to things that make me go HAHAHAHAHAHAHA:

Never die, Nic Cage.  Don't leave me in this world alone.