Seventeen

I’ve never really been an anxious person. And then I met him.

When we first started dating, I was always so excited to see him that I would have to go to the bathroom multiple times beforehand. Nervous shits.

Now I feel nauseas when I think about him, want to throw up on an empty stomach. My heart contracts to the point of pain and my fingertips feel tingly as my vision blurs.

I hate that I’ve been reduced to this, hate that I’m not stronger to overcome my feelings with logic.

I haven’t cried since the day I saw them together, and I think that’s because I’m not sad about us anymore. I just feel rejected and betrayed. Betrayed by what his actions lead me to believe, betrayed by what I thought I knew about him, betrayed by what I thought I read from the situation. In some ways, rejection and betrayal are easier to overcome than heartbreak because their solution isn’t specific to that person. For that I’m glad.

I was thinking the other day that because of my limited dating experience, I don’t have a lot of “near-misses”. And by that, I mean people that you are compatible with in lots of ways but for some reason, it doesn’t work out – the almost-theres, but not quite. Because of this, the loss of this almost-there relationship feels so much heavier and more poignant than it probably does for other people. In reality, the majority of us will likely have a lot of almost-theres in our history before we find our there person.

Today I’ve been wondering how many exes he keeps in loose contact with, just to keep that option open. Fuck that. I’m no one’s back up. I’m either your first choice or none at all. He couldn’t make that call so I’ll make it – I never want to see him again.

It’s freeing, to come to the realisation that I don’t want him back. Even though that’s not completely how I feel yet, I know this for certain in my head and it’s just a matter of time before my emotions catch up. This means that I can start dating again, and not hold back for him. Progress.

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