I think the music director at 102.9 is out to get me.
Driving home, they played the three songs that hit me most in a row and I realized something. The only thing harder than trying to drive with her in the car and holding back tears is trying to drive home with tears flooding your eyes alone.
But why would someone who was so struck-tortured even-by those three songs, play them over and over again when they finally do get home? Love.
It happens every time we’re about to break up. I’ll think how much better things will be. How much more time I’ll have to concentrate on other things like school, work, and (selfishly) myself—how much more I’ll be able to do, how much more free time I’ll have to do whatever I want, and so on. But then, it’ll hit me. I’ll lose her. And in a moment, all these concrete plans you had laid out for your free self are tossed into a mixer with those treasured memories you once shared.
The thought of breaking up doesn’t seem so bad when you’re sitting alone, or talking on the phone, or online, or even with her in an argument or a time of particular stress. It’s when you look at her, and think of the pain you’re causing her, that you crack. And something inside your throat aches… and the tears flow from your eyes. You begin to see yourself as the big jackass she’s seen you as for days.
But we don’t see eye to eye. Is it just better to cut your losses and move on, no matter how hard that will be/already is? Sometimes it seems like it can’t be, and other times it seems so easy.
(I know you’ll probably read this. And maybe a part of me wishes you did. I just needed to say this, and not directly at you.)
