The Story of Us

Twenty One

The next day, me and two of my best friends spent the day at Disneyland. I got a button that said I'm celebrating being single. I put on a smile and pretended like my whole world hadn't imploded 24 hours ago. I had a month to pack up my apartment, I was moving back in with my mom and her new husband (they had the most space), and I was starting a new job in less than a week. Everyone kept commenting on how well I was handling this, but on the inside, I was dying.

And I finally let it out.

Okay, to be fair, this was my first real relationship. I had boyfriends in high school, but those had all lasted no more than a few months at most. Nothing serious. Stephen and I were together nearly 4 1/2 years, we talked about marriage and children, we had our lives planned out. Not only was I mourning the fact my heart broke, I was mourning the future I thought I had. This man up and moved out in a fucking day; taking the mattress with him. He left me no choice but to go crawling back to my mother immediately. I couldn't afford a new mattress and a new apartment, especially just starting out at this new job. He left me with both a literal and figurative mess.

I hadn't eaten at home since our fight August 14th. Now, September 6th, I had a sink full of dishes that smelled like rotten egg, tuna, and sour milk. My dishes that I didn't use, but I had to wash them. The bedroom had trash scattered all around; empty deodorant cans, packaging from his underwear that I had bought him, and all the pictures of us I gave him. Four years of photo books, a blanket, a polaroid... all this I had to pick up, tears stinging my eyes. The bathroom was covered in toilet paper he used to blow his nose. I had asked him a while ago to fluish those; it's not fair to me to have to touch his snot. Yet, he didn't respect me enough. I picked those up along with a few empty water bottles strewn across the room. He left boxes from the crate and playpen he bought for the dog in the living room and on the patio.

I got stuck in a place where I had to decide what to do with the memories. I had spent money having books made every year, storing all our memories for the year we had spent together. And he left them behind, laying on the floor with all the trash. It took me weeks to finally throw them away.

Here's the part where it gets bad.

I know how I reacted wasn't the best, I will openly admit that. But like I said, it was my first real heartbreak. And with him moving out of the apartment in one night it felt extremely final, unlike our previous little tiffs that lasted a day or a week at most. So, I did what I do best.

I exploited all his lies on social media.

Of course, he got mad. But he did the same shit to me.

He made a post saying some shit about how "Come talk to me not going through your friends or my father" because I had Jessica text him and then asked his father to pass along a message because I figured he would've blocked me. The end of his post said to "get over your feelings". And that triggered me like no tomorrow.

"'Get over my feelings' huh? You want me to tell you? I will tell you this: I was willing to fight for us, you're the one who gave up. Every year. I tried to talk this out and all you did was shut me down. I was waiting for you to show me you still cared and you never did. I know I'm not perfect but neither are you. The only reason I started looking at one bedroom places was because a week ago I asked you if you were going to dump me and your response was 'I don't know yet, we'll see.' Who says that to someone they actually love? Four times in four years is too many times to have my heart broken."

He proceed to say how convenient it was that I still followed him on my other account yet he was blocked from seeing my main one on Instagram. He continued, "Im not arguing anymore. I have been known im not perfect but to ask ur friend to text me if im still at the apartment then texting my father about some fuckin papers shows me enough."