Sappy Shit to Get Over

The first was toxic. As cliche as that is, it’s the truth. When my family found out about him and told me to break things off, I listened…and then he blackmailed me. I moved out, went to college, and that’s the last I heard from him.

The second wasn’t much better. He was my first, and I wanted more. I wanted what he wasn’t: a safe haven. He ghosted me. I moved on.

My third broke it off after a month and a half because he “hadn’t fallen in love, yet.” That’s when I realized I needed to grow up. 

So I jumped into a relationship that could have lasted forever. I broke it off after he asked my father for his permission to propose. Turns out I wasn’t ready to settle down.

The fifth was the worst. We adopted a dog together, I drove him to work, I provided for all of us, thinking I was helping him. I fucked myself over and moved back home. He still has my clothes, some furniture and electronics.

Now I’m two years in on a guy who hasn’t offered to commit because I told him at the beginning that I don’t want another relationship. And now I’m halfway across the country, and that offer wouldn’t matter anyway. 

How frustrating it is when you kill off a life your future self might’ve wanted. 


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