Dear my end all be all,
I'm leaving for dumbass fucking Malibu today.
As you can tell I'm not excited.
And I feel like shit.
And on top of that I can't talk to Alina about any of it.
I know I have myself to blame for this and it sucks, but I think I've made the right decision.
I'm not sure.
I'm hoping I did.
But it doesn't feel like the right decision.
The right decision isn't supposed to fill be with dread and sadness and anger but then again, maybe it's just the adjustment.
It was just too much right now with everything going on. I was going to be away from her for three weeks and lately she's been super touchy and clingy and it's made me upset. She has made me upset lately and it isn't worth worrying about for three weeks.
But goddamn, I feel even more upset than before.
Everyone is super pumped for this vacation except me. I was excited, believe me. Maybe not thrilled because of the three weeks thing, but I was definitely excited to get some sunshine.
That is, before I broke up with Alina.
I'm on the plane right now writing to you thousands of feet in the air and I have a killer urge to walk to the door, open it, and jump out. I'm hoping once we get there the warmth of the beach will wash away any guilt I carry.
"Grant, you're acting like a pissy little three year old, what the fuck is wrong with you?" April asked as she flipped through movies on the tiny seat back TV.
"Nothing." I muttered, looking out the window at the dense clouds suffocating the plane.
"Well whatever 'nothing' is, you need to cut it out because you're seriously putting a damper on my mood. Do you want a vodka tonic or something? Rick said he would order me whatever I wanted-"
"Fuck no, April. Jesus, what's wrong with you?"
She narrowed her eyes at me. "'Nothing.'" She mocked, making a face at me.
I rolled my eyes and continued staring out the window.
I hadn't told anyone we had broken up, not even Brandon. It was still fresh and I didn't feel the need to make it public knowledge yet, I would leave that up to Alina. I feel like I had done enough, the last thing she probably wanted was for me to publicly disown her. I still had Instagram pictures of her up, but had changed my phone wallpaper to a generic picture of waves and I haven't talked to her since the day.
I wasn't sure if I was supposed to. Was that a thing you do when you break up? Shoot them a text like "hey, just confirming this is over. Have a nice life"? It didn't seem right, and she hadn't texted me asking for clarification or a second chance, so I assume we are both on the same page.
Let me just tell you, this page sucks.
I want to turn this page.
I want to start a new page.
With you.
Whoever you are.
Wherever you are.
You're my page.
-Grant