4am

Prologue

It's 4:00am. Again. The pain in my chest hurts so bad I feel like my heart might explode. I tried. So fucking hard. And it just didn't work. I gave him my all. And he didn't want it. He's with her now. I can't even see the Instagram picture he posted today for her birthday because I unfollowed him and he has a private profile. I saw the number of posts go from 16 to 17. I kept track. I guess I knew it was going to happen at some point. I don't know why I kept checking. I don't know what I was expecting to happen. For the post number to never change from 16?

I unfollowed him so I wouldn't see it, but I know it's there. It's lurking. I can picture our mutual friends commenting on the picture, saying how adorable they are. "Couple goals." "LOVE THIS AND Y'ALL." "Mom and Dad." Makes my stomach turn. I want to throw up, but I don't let myself. It will get better, I tell myself.

I haven't cried much since him and I broke up. This may have been only my 3rd or 4th time and we've been broken up for 8 months. Technically shorter because we were still trying to make it work up until summer. But I finally ended it. It wasn't right. It was only making things harder.

I tried to forget about him. To forget about how much we did together. How much we loved each other. At least, how much I loved him. I think the thing that bothers me the most is that it feels like maybe he never really loved me at all. If he was able to find someone so easily after me, after everything he said to me. "I can never picture anyone else for me." "You can date other people, but I won't." "I'll wait for you."

I will wait for you.

What a total fuckin' lie.

I try to make myself think of the lies he would tell me, the words that never turned to actions. The hopefulness I felt, and the disappointment when he failed me, time after time. It helps, for awhile. But then the heartache returns. The God awful feeling of missing a piece of you that you thought you could just give away. The piece that you never get back.

You don't realize that when you give away something, there's a possibility it won't come back. Experienced people try to warn you. Your parents, friends who have already experienced heart ache. But you don't listen. You are so caught up in the good thing that is happening in your life that you take a leap of faith. You give it away, hoping you won't need it back one day.

And some people are lucky enough to never need it back. The person they gave it to decided to stay.

But some aren't. Some go against their instincts. They listen to their heart, 100%. No brain involved. And they hope that their heart is telling them the truth. That he is The One. They listen to the pretty words, ignore the bad signs, praying that they chose right the first time.

But we are human. We're not gods. We're not ever going to be 100% sure.

I sit in my bed, the dog that he gave me staring at me. As if she knows. I wonder what she thinks. Her big brown eyes bore into me. I let out a little sniffle. She continues to stare. I hope if they ever meet again she won't recognize him. I hope she growls or even tries to bite him. Or worse, I hope she's so freaked out that she runs away from him and makes him feel like the piece of shit that he is.

I want to be that girl that's happy for him. I hear you eventually feel that way. I hope I'm a good enough person to feel that way one day. Even though he hurt me so GD bad. I did so much for him. I gave him so much. And he threw it all away.

Even after we broke up, he continued to make me feel like shit. I flirted with guys, kissed them, went on dates with them, fucked them. And I continued to feel guilty. Because anytime I was around him he would watch me. His friends would make comments. About things I was doing. The partying, the boys, hell, even the drugs (not that I did many of those).

It's a damn double standard is what it is. He did all that shit and more, but he doesn't get shit.

I want to get angry about all of those things.

But then I remember.

I remember.

I am better. I am moving on to bigger and better things. I am climbing, and he's chosen to stay on the ground at the foot of the mountain. He couldn't fly like I could.

I will not let myself stoop to his level anymore.

I will continue working on myself. I will be the best version of me that I can be. He took that part of me away for awhile. I lost myself. I'm still trying to find it, but I can feel it there, gliding underneath the surface. Something is blocking it, but whatever that is, whether it be sorrow, despair, insecurity, I will overcome.

I am an overcomer. My best self was and is there. He hid it from me for a little while. But he did not take it. That piece of my heart, he can have. I'll find a new piece. And I'll guard it better. I won't be used.

I prayed the other night. I was drunk, and I finally let him get to me. I cried. So fucking hard. The alcohol definitely helped unblock some of that numbness I've been using to hide my true feelings.

I prayed that I would find someone who truly loved me. Who wouldn't knock me down for being me. Who wouldn't lie. Whose actions were so strong that no one doubted that he wanted me. Someone that wanted to impress my parents.

I felt silly doing it. I'm sure God has way more important things in his life to worry about than some little brat who gave her heart away too quickly when she was 19. But he did not disappoint. Even in my inebriated state, I had a feeling. Almost as if a weight had been lifted off of me. He's coming, the feeling said.

He's running a little late, but I've got a good one for you.

Despite the sadness I feel thinking about my old life, I can't help but get a feeling that something much better is coming. So I wait.