It’s time to break away from a certain friendship group. Why is it, every weekend, I end up in some strange undeniably mixed up situation where I am sat with two of my exes. I am repeatedly reminded of my heart breaks, my regret and the failed relationships that have weakened me as a person and turned me in to a total misandrist. How am I to ever get talking to someone else when I am being put off before I have even met them. And with my hearty heart and mindful of morals, I would not be one to want to be chatted up in front of an ex. It’s just weird. I should not have to be in the scenario, where I have to watch who I think is the love of my life, get straddled by some common tart, who has been around the block more times than a postman.
As much as I love the company of his best friend, who makes me laugh unbearably and tells me I am ‘sound’ and still calls me ‘Chelly bean,’ it is time to break away. Why do I put myself through the pain of scaring myself into believing I will not be able to meet anyone else, because I am overcrowded by doomed relationships, and most frequently, a boy who has broken my heart so many times, I have given up on piecing it back together. I confuse myself with my motives for this group of people. Is it because I enjoy their company? Is it to check up on my first loves new love? Is it to keep stringing along the other ex who still has feelings for me because I am scared no one else will? Maybe a congregation of all of this.
The point is, a twenty pound ticket and a two hour drive up to Cardiff all completely wasted because of the most epic brawl of my life. Recently, an ex (why I agreed for him to come with is all part of my muggish, pathetic naivety, where I think we can rekindle whatever it was we had 2 years ago, which was not a lot,) was chatting up some mouthy chav (she may have well been a lovely woman, but I can’t help but turn bitter to whoever he even looks at) and I couldn’t handle it. This ended yet again, in a lot of tears, a lot of cursing, an early trip home and three hours sat in the hallway discussing my serious jealousy issues and his serious commitment issues, and what did either of us gain from this? Absolutely nothing.
Another night ruined, another attempt at re-bonding failed, another twenty minutes wasted attempting to de-panda-eyes myself, mascara is a bitch. As strange as it is, I am sad it is time to draw the line, and it really is time. After all, these 2 years have been full of many good times, fantastic memories and much laughter. But I am twenty one, not a teenager. I cannot sit around dwelling on what could have been and be constantly reminded of what isn’t. It is going to be tough trying to explain why I have to detach myself without sounding like a crazy cat lady. But I am done with the drama. It’s been good guys, no, it’s been absolutely brilliant…but I really have to go.
As much as I love the company of his best friend, who makes me laugh unbearably and tells me I am ‘sound’ and still calls me ‘Chelly bean,’ it is time to break away. Why do I put myself through the pain of scaring myself into believing I will not be able to meet anyone else, because I am overcrowded by doomed relationships, and most frequently, a boy who has broken my heart so many times, I have given up on piecing it back together. I confuse myself with my motives for this group of people. Is it because I enjoy their company? Is it to check up on my first loves new love? Is it to keep stringing along the other ex who still has feelings for me because I am scared no one else will? Maybe a congregation of all of this.
The point is, a twenty pound ticket and a two hour drive up to Cardiff all completely wasted because of the most epic brawl of my life. Recently, an ex (why I agreed for him to come with is all part of my muggish, pathetic naivety, where I think we can rekindle whatever it was we had 2 years ago, which was not a lot,) was chatting up some mouthy chav (she may have well been a lovely woman, but I can’t help but turn bitter to whoever he even looks at) and I couldn’t handle it. This ended yet again, in a lot of tears, a lot of cursing, an early trip home and three hours sat in the hallway discussing my serious jealousy issues and his serious commitment issues, and what did either of us gain from this? Absolutely nothing.
Another night ruined, another attempt at re-bonding failed, another twenty minutes wasted attempting to de-panda-eyes myself, mascara is a bitch. As strange as it is, I am sad it is time to draw the line, and it really is time. After all, these 2 years have been full of many good times, fantastic memories and much laughter. But I am twenty one, not a teenager. I cannot sit around dwelling on what could have been and be constantly reminded of what isn’t. It is going to be tough trying to explain why I have to detach myself without sounding like a crazy cat lady. But I am done with the drama. It’s been good guys, no, it’s been absolutely brilliant…but I really have to go.
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