I came home from a day filled with good and bad things.  I had a great time with friends, learned a lot from visiting museums, and even found a cool restaurant!  I saw a movie, argued with my brother, and had to deal with my mom trying to convince me to “work harder” to get back together with my boyfriend ex-boyfriend.  It still just doesn’t seem right.  It still feels like it never even happened (not the relationship, but the breaking up part).
Anyway, I got on my computer and started my nightly Internet perusal.  I got out some Pirate’s Booty and some crispy seaweed as snacks.  I got bored of those after awhile and switched to chocolate ice cream topped with peanut butter.  The sweet, chocolatey taste made my taste buds zing and it was exactly what I needed to end my day.

A friend hit me up on facebook, asked how I was doing, said he missed me, and then asked me how my boyfriend was.  Casually, I told him that we had broken up, as I did with all of my friends, trying to avoid the nasty details, but, being the good friend that he was, I added more to the story, telling him about why I thought we really broke up.  I told him my fears about the future, why I think it may have been a good thing and I why I think it may have been a huge blow, the possibility of getting back together and whether or not I would want that, etc.  Pretty much, everything one would think about after a break up with a person they loved and cared about.
Now, my friend has been in a healthy, happy relationship for a few years now.  I asked him if they have ever broken up and gotten back together.  He said, “No, but we’ve had rough patches.”  That’s when it hit me.  The one reason we broke up.  The one rough patch we hit, my other half wasn’t willing to work through.  It wasn’t because of whatever reason he had mentioned before.  It wasn’t because of all the reasons I had come up with in my head.  It was because he hit a rough patch with me.  Something wasn’t perfect and he didn’t want to put in the effort to fix it.  I wasn’t worth it.  After thinking, “I wasn’t worth it,” I felt tears streaming down my face, landing on my shirt, my hands, and my arms.
In that moment, I had become the crying girl sitting in bed with the bowl of ice cream, not because I wanted to, not because I planned it, but simply because it happened.  Because everyone gets to be the crying girl with the ice cream and no one gets to choose why or when.  Of course, this isn’t the first time I’ve been the girl with the ice cream, but I had promised myself, begged myself not to let that happen again.  Not this time, not this guy, but I had failed.  Most importantly, I had accepted failure.  I had not chosen for this to happen.  I had not turned to ice cream in a moment of weakness.  I was not weak.  I was merely eating ice cream when the moment struck and tears accompanied my ice cream indulgence.  I had probably looked pathetic to anyone who may have seen me, but that’s not the case.  I am not pathetic.
This makes me think about all those other times people just find themselves in situations and they just have to deal with it.  Maybe they looked pathetic, too, to the occasional passerby.  Perhaps nothing is as it seems, or maybe people just judge too harshly.  See that guy sitting on the street with his head in his hands, nicely dressed in business attire, unaware of the pouring rain around him?  Some may judge and think, “Oh, poor businessman.  What could possibly be wrong in his life?  He must have so much money.”  Think again.  What if that man had lost his job?  What if he had been diagnosed with cancer or his sister died?  Maybe he found out that his son was in an accident and he’ll be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life.  Maybe his wife left him and his three kids for another man when they were barely making ends meet as it was.
Nothing is as simple as it seems.  Maybe I’m fooling myself too.  I over think why things happened and what can be done to make things as painless as possible, forgetting the pain altogether, when in reality, pain is important.  We can’t just ignore it.  We must suffer through it.  We must experience it, or we will never heal.  We won’t be able to fully learn from the experience.  I, and I think a lot of other people too, need to focus less on keeping our cool.  We must focus more on the experience.
Yes, we had good times, but for now, over-analyzing my relationship with my ex isn’t going to do anyone any good.  I shouldn’t need to rely on my subconscious, or physical functions to know what I’m feeling.  I should consciously know how I feel.  I shouldn’t need to know I’m sad by the number of salty water drops on my face.  Life is too goddamn short and it’s all about experiences, so, let’s go on and experience before it’s too late.