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It’s another boring day at the office and you’ve jumped on Facebook, scrolling through your feed in a daze of cat videos, and passive-aggressive statuses from people you don’t really care about. Then you stop. What was that? You scroll back up as your heart rises higher and higher into your throat making it hard to breathe.
Your Ex is now in a relationship with Whatshername.
Oh, hell no!
Let me paint a picture of what happens next and how to deal with this situation:
Call your best friends, and ask, “Who is this, bitch? Nah, it can’t be like, a real relationship. I’m like 90% positive he’s still all in for me, you know? Like, he texted me at 3 a.m. not even four days ago. No. This ain’t real.”
“Okay, you know what? Fuck him! I bet this was happening all along; what a goddamn liar. I’m pretty sure I saw her in his phone at one point, you know? Like, who the hell does he fucking think he is?”
Go through your home and find any leftover traces of him. Rip them, burn them, destroy the ache in your chest with shaking hands and labored breaths. He never loved you, you never loved him, what a waste of time you spent on that fool.
Give in and call him, maybe. Stalk his profiles and stare at the newly added pictures of them. Maybe if you just… changed your hair? Hers is straight and sleek, that top accentuates her skin tone, maybe you should put more effort into your own appearance.
Your friends tell you, “Girl, there were a million reasons ya’ll broke up,” but you can’t seem to remember any of them right now.
He lied. He said he’d always love you, that you were his favorite. You go to a party in an attempt to get over your sadness. You see them enter. You forget to breathe, might even cry. They seemed kind of happy, though. It’s hard to remember there was a time when you were happy.
With emotions flying all over the place, you go home, crawl into bed with ice cream and cry some more. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning, but there’s nothing else you can do right now.
You wake up and begin to move through the motions. You slowly begin to remember over the next few days or weeks, “Girl, there were a million reasons ya’ll broke up.” Look in the mirror and think, “He might have liked my eyes, but I prefer my hair curly.” Every day it becomes easier to go out without the fear of running into him, into them. You’re out laughing with your girlfriends one night, and maybe they’ll walk in. The girls all hold their breath, waiting for your reaction. Maybe your heart still tightens in your chest a bit, maybe you hold your breath on purpose, then you smile, release and continue on.
Someone buys you a drink, and he’s darker, taller, sillier than you past. Your past? Oh, whatshisname again?
SHOUT OUT to my friend Paige for creating this badass cover/tracklisting; find more of her work here!