Mumford & Sons

And just like that, the book is closed. Or the chapter, you still aren't really sure at this point. You sit there wondering, "how was it that i was erased? just like that." You roll it over and over in your brain trying to make sense of it all. One day there are all these pictures of you for the world to see and the next, just gone. You get into your pajamas after a long day, jump into bed and think...

"he erased me."

The pain which ensues numbs you by the morning time. You need an escape. A cupcake just doesn't seem powerful enough. Maybe fast food? Or a long drive? Definitely calling out of work for fear someone will recognize you as "the ex-girlfriend who has been wiped away on a social networking site," as though you are the first and only one for this to ever happen to. No, no, none of these things will do. What can I do? What can I do to show him how hurt I am? Before I move one step further it is night time once again...and the damage is already done. I have opened my big mouth and...emailed. God, isn't this just the type of thing thing the crazies do? Oh no, I'm that girl. Great. Even better. Smooth move. I have gone...crazy.

From there, small chaos ensues. But nothing that will only put a bandaid on something everyone goes through at some point after a break-up, the little things that hurt where one person is always in the right and the other always in the wrong no matter what way you try to slice it. Although the roles constantly change, you know what you've done, and all you can do is clean out your wound daily until it finally heals.

Given time and space, the clarity begins to shine through, and the anxiety over it all starts to subside. You realize he's moving on, and that is okay, because soon you will be too. Well of course you didn't expect him to do it first,  I mean, for serious, how could you possibly let that happen? But "it's okay", you quietly repeat to yourself. You will indeed, and surprisingly so, live to see another day.

Months later, you will realize how silly you reacted. But it will take that long, months, if not longer. Because that's the way these things go, until finally, your wound becomes a scar. It's healed, but it will forever remind you of the heartbreak you had to go through to make you tougher, to help you find your place. YOUR place. Not his. Not ours. YOURS. Or mine as it were. 

Sometimes, less and less frequently, I go into the folder where the old, long since deleted and forgotten, pictures are saved and remember the smiles. And the lessons learned. And know it is something we all must survive to get to the other side. To grow and learn and hear people tell us all that crap that we can't believe in that very moment, but eventually, well eventually we find our way.

Just a girl, now knowing that it hurts, and that's okay, because Neil Sedaka was right, and it doesn't mean you will die alone, it just means it wasn't right...and wanting other girls to know just that. Lick your wounds...a scar doesn't hurt nearly as much.