I fake wanna be mad at myself for typing this, but my blog is for me to express myself so I’ll do just that. *sigh*
Sometimes I still can’t believe that me and that man whose name we do not speak of (the ex from Breaking Up is Hard) are really over. And I mean, like over-over. I’ve blocked him in the past for months at a time, and he’d stay away. But in true us fashion, he’d call me private (usually lit) and I’d let him come over. Then the cycle of K & J would start all over again...
Well this time is different. Yeah he’s blocked but I’m not answering any private calls. Whether it’s him or a bill collector. I try not to be hard on myself about it all, but to be honest I was what we Chicagoans call a “goofy.” Let me explain.
First off, let me say this. I met him when I was young, eighteen to be exact. Me and my Mom never talked about guys. I am not close with my sister so I never exchanged boy stories with her. I was just out here green as hell and found myself falling for my friend. It was all so innocent initially…
I remember when he took my virginity. Yall I was being so weird! Because even though it hurt like a bitch I was quiet AF. Just awkwardly clinching my teeth waiting for the pain to be over so I could call my BFF London and tell her the news. But through it all, he was gentle and even more importantly, he was my friend. So I trusted him with that part of me.
So for it to be years later and us not even cool. Just feels... weird.
I don’t wanna be his friend because he literally ripped my heart out, stomped on it and fed it to a pack of hungry pitbulls (lol I’m just saying anything to keep from being sad). But it’s still different without him. I’m still adjusting.
When I daydream (and yes I daydream, A LOT) sometimes he comes up. Or should I say “we” come up. But not the most recent, toxic, insecure us. The young, innocent, living in LaLaLand us.
The us who would spend a night in each other’s dorm room. The us who would meet up after class to go to the dining halls. The us who were friends.
Yeah, that shit was eight years ago but the memories are clear AF in my head. It’s crazy because I think of those memories more than our recent ones. Cause those don’t hurt. Those lowkey make me miss him. But like the mature, not in LaLaLand anymore person I am, I snap out of it and think of my reality.
And the reality is we aren’t those same people who met in college. I’m not 18 and innocent and neither is he. We don’t talk. We aren’t friends. And I can’t miss him. Like...I shouldn’t miss him. And I mean, I don’t miss him. I miss the old him.
If I could go back in time to our dorm rooms I would. Not to change anything but to live in those innocent moments one more time. To get one more innocent hug and one more innocent “I love you.”
It’s crazy how time flies and things change. How those innocent “I love yous” turned into toxic “I know I hurt you and you should be mad and leave but… I love you” real quick.
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. The still toxic and manipulative me wants him to somehow read it (even though he unsubscribed from my emails) and contact me. But for what? To meet up and get a not so innocent hug? To have sex? Knowing all I’ll be able to think about is the hurt and how he’s stuck that same dick in the next bitch time and time again? It’s a harsh reality and I still sometimes don’t like facing it.
I don’t want to have to face meeting another guy and trying all this again. I wanted it to work with my friend. I wanted to be with him because as a friend I knew he would never hurt me. But now look, months later and I’m still thinking about it. Talking about it.
I’m honestly in disbelief. The other day I went through and deleted all of our old pics and screenshots of messages. How did it go from “hey baby” to no communication so quickly? I hate that I still find myself thinking of him. I honestly wish I could take a pill and it would erase every memory of him. I’m not at the point where it’s water under the bridge. No. I’m either disgusted or sad so I change the subject or change the song.
Wanna know how I even decided to write about this? Because I was listening to Pandora and Frank Ocean’s Thinkin Bout You came on. This was our song. We would listen to it all the time our freshman year of college. Now present day when this song comes on I turn it off. I don’t want anything to remind me of him. But its not helping. I thought blocking him, not saying his name and removing every piece of his existence from my phone would help… but it hasn’t.
So today I decided to not press skip and actually listen to the song. I thought like hey, maybe the only way out is through? Well now I’m here. Not sad but in disbelief. In disbelief that my friend turned lover is now a stranger and we can never be cool again. At least not now. I’m less sad about what actually happened between us and more sad that things didn't work out. I’m gonna slap myself for saying this but I loved him so much. Ask my friends, ask Kat! ! I never liked someone as much as I liked him. I don’t do that. I keep these niggas on the low most times, because it be like that but it don’t be “like that - like that.” Issa difference. But with him it was that and some. He was my friend. He not only had my heart but my vagina too.
Speaking of vagina, ugh, I’m never letting ANY of these men touch me again! Okay, that’s a lie because I’m 2 nights away from throwing my plastic in the street (I’m getting fake over it) but how am I supposed to let somebody else touch me? They don't know me. It’s going to be too different. It ain’t gon feel right. And I don't wanna get to know anyone so they can touch me. Buttttt I wanna get touched. Basically it’s all fucked up and I just wish it would’ve ended differently with my friend. Like I’m happy with how my life is. I love my blog and I’m preparing myself more and more to move from Chicago and follow my dreams. But its like damn, I had to lose my friend in the process? Someone who got me, literally and figuratively? It sucks.
So I guess you can say... KP, I’ve been thinkin bout you.
I’m almost done but I wanna tell yall what I just did. I literally just went to the bathroom at my job and cried. Not a omg hyperventilating cry but a “let me just get this out” cry. And I feel slightly better. I guess what I said earlier was right, the only way out of this whole heartbreak thing is to literally cry and talk your way through. For however long you need. So here’s to day 165 of trying to get over a broken heart. I hope this shit heals soon.