Tonight I went for a run. I always go for runs. There's nothing unusual about running. I mean, I kind of hate running, but still I run. But tonight I felt myself running from something. I've never run from emotions but tonight I wanted to believe I could.
Being pretty doesn't save you from heartache. Being pretty doesn't mean you have 100 amazing suitors lined up to date you. Don't mistake the fact that me getting hit on by guys mean I have tons of options. I have like -3 options. And when I find myself a good option. . . when I find someone I'm attracted to and who is attracted to me. . . someone who actually seems to be decent. . . they are usually so messed up from an ex that they are too heart broken to attempt to date.
I didn't expect this sadness to set in. I didn't expect it to be so deep and lingering. I didn't expect to feel it so fully. And I hate it. I hate it so much you know? I hate it because I know I'll be OK. I hate it because I have already found my happiness again, and yet I'm still sad. And I hate it because I don't know what to do.
I don't know if the hurt has passed. I don't know if missing someone is enough. I don't know if I'm thinking clearly. Is missing someone a sign that I'm ready to forgive and forget? Or is it just a natural byproduct of anything ending, bad or good? I never expected it to hurt this much. I thought I would come around. But the pain ran deeper than I thought it did, and it has taken a while for me to get to a place of understanding.
Usually I go through the sadness, the bitterness, the anger before I get to the happy and content part. This time I felt the happy/content part first. And even through the sadness, bitterness and anger I still felt that happiness and content. I know I'll be fine. But there's just no escaping this. It is what it is. No matter how you try to describe it a break up is a break up. It's going to hurt no matter how much you understand that it was necessary.
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