It has been a bizarre, harrowing, and long semester. My life was hijacked by a geek in Skull Candy headphones at the term’s start, and on this, the last day of my first semester of college, I am taking a stand. I am taking my life back. I have decided that I no longer wish to ride the rollercoaster of emotions that my ex-boyfriend continues build track for. The latest corkscrew he threw me for was the whole “I still love you, I want to get back together” spiel, two weeks after telling me he just wanted to be friends. Two weeks before that he told me he loved me like a brother. Two weeks before that he was talking marriage, children, etc. I am sick of only being wanted when it’s convenient. I’m sick of tip toeing around his exceptionally fragile self-esteem. I’m sick of not being allowed to have my own opinion, my own voice.I’m sick of being treated like a little girl who is lost up her own asshole. Most of all, I’m sick of being consistently altered to be someone I no longer recognize in the mirror. For all of final’s week, I have been plucking up the courage to finally stand up to this boy, because this is the last time that we will be in the same place at the same time by obligation, rather than by choice. I am trying to forget that he once held me like the world around us did not exist, like I would be safe and loved until the end of time. I am trying to forget that I can still feel his ghost lips on my neck, his hands gripping my body... This is easier said than done. I decided that I would approach him on the last day of finals, just because it felt symbolic of something (I don’t know what yet). From there, I had no plan. I mean, in my head of course I had this elaborate fantasy, spun mostly from situational comedies, wherein I would sit beside him all sweet in the crowded cafeteria. He would tell me how much he wanted to see me over the summer, and I would politely reject the idea out of hand. But, why? he would ask. I still love you, he would demand. And then I would just unload on him like rounds out of an automatic rifle. I would lay into him everything I have been holding back for the last couple months, because now, I would not worry about hurting his precious self-assurance. No! I won’t go to the gym, and shave my nether regions, and wear copious amounts of make up for you. No! I won’t tolerate your racist remarks, or your fat jokes about my father, and no, I will never choose you over my family. I would even stand up and knock my chair back, just like in the movies! And if I could find a drink to toss over his head, I’d do that too. I’d walk away from my little spectacle like the baddest bitch in town, as the on-looking lunch goers stared at my ex, finally knowing him to be the douche that he is. But you and I both know this is silly. Such theatrics would be childish. (However appealing they may be.) I do need to think of something, though, because I have exactly two hours before he arrives on campus and I’m panicking slightly. A very dear friend of mine offered to sit with me all day to provide some much needed moral support, but I feel like this is something I have to endure alone. Self-sufficiency is key to survival in any other circumstance. This is no different. There are two frightening prospects to consider here. Firstly, I can’t predict with certainty how he is going to react. My ex is not only a hard core narcissist, but he also displays a few indicators of psychopathy. If I know him at all, he will likely react to this decision to cut him out of my life in one of two ways. Option 1. He will spiral into one of his dramatic introspective depressions, a few of which I have had the unhappy task of walking him through (sort of like walking a hurricane through a bustling metropolis). He will hate himself and the world, and it will make the coming fall semester incredibly awkward, but I will probably never hear from him again. Or, Option 2. He will become the aggressively belligerent monster I have only heard about, who has no thought or remorse for his actions, and a solely self-absorbed perspective on the situation. This is the possibility that scares me the most, because while I have not actually witnessed his violent side myself, his nature certainly makes him more than capable. (He’s also a double black belt… Fun times.) The other thing to consider is the fact that I am not very good at goodbyes. Regardless of what he has done to me, or how much he has hurt me, I concocted this beautiful romantic idea of having him in my life forever. Even if we didn’t work out as a couple, I wanted so badly for him to be my wingman. I wanted to call him from New York and laugh with him about how badly I botched an audition. I wanted to hear about how dorm life was (not) suiting him. I wanted him to be in my wedding. Our children were supposed to play together, for god’s sake. I just didn’t want to lose this person, whom I’d built such a castle with. I wasn’t ready to let go of the inside jokes, the memories of winter nights in a dark theatre, of kissing in secluded elevators, of being that long anticipated “one + one = one”. This was all wrong though. If I’ve learned anything from this it is that a person must be strong alone before they even attempt one + one. Otherwise, when things go bad (and I promise, they will) it makes everything so much harder. Being strong as an individual ensures that the relationship is built not only upon the right principles, but for the right reasons as well. I couldn’t let go of us, not him. I recognize that now. Also, I did the math is wrong. It’s one + one = three. You, the other person, and then the third entity the two of you become. If one + one = two, you’re doing something wrong. (As I did.) Sadly, the only way to move on, for me, is without. Without him. Without others. I have to figure out how to be by myself, and how to be independent. It is a fundamental building block to being a grown ass woman that I haven’t quite come to terms with yet. I’m thinking that I will just have to play this afternoon by ear. If I see my ex, and the subject comes up, I will let him down in whatever way I have to. If it doesn’t come up, I might just be ‘coldly polite’, as a dear friend has advised me to be. It feels a little rude to suddenly be so unconcerned for his feelings but I cannot go on like this any longer. I think it is time that I realize that, like every other woman out there, my feelings matter too. I am capable of treating myself better than he ever did. I will be okay on my own.
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