Hate is a strong word. But when being dumped it feels like he hates me. And frankly, after the dumping is finished, I often hate him. I’ve been broken up with more times than I’d like to remember and each break-up was heart-wrenching and traumatizing. The good news is that each time I learned more about myself and more importantly I now have a lot of material to write about.
I spent some time today thinking back on every break-up since I was five-years-old and decided to blog their reasons for leaving me. It feels like therapy. You should do it too.
You broke all the green crayons.
I’m afraid of the dark.
I don’t want to go to homecoming with you.
Because Josh is my friend.
I met someone else.
No reason. Just cuz.
You wouldn’t sleep with me.
Did I ever tell you about my ex-girlfriend? No? Well, we’re getting back together.
You don’t do coke.
You wouldn’t come back to Cinque Terre.
I met someone else.
You’re dead inside.
You don’t do stuff.
My personal favorite: Because You’re Going to Hell.
My wife found out and we’ve decided to try and work it out.
Maybe you’re a slut.
I met someone else.
You got mad when I forgot your birthday.
Email this post
Custom Search
7 Comments
You broke all the green crayons? How can you live with yourself?
Not doing coke, destroying creative utensils, the Cinque “whatever the fuck” Terre, and poor Josh. These all seem legit, except, you’re dead inside, I’ve gotten one of those.
Just for the record I am not dead inside!
AND – like I said, the crayons were actually blue, but I liked the picture.
so how old were you when the whole broken crayons story happened? i’m hoping it wasn’t in the last 10 years.
Five years old. His name was Alex.
I know you’re not dead
Maybe just a little bit…way back when.