I thought I was ready for the break-up. I mean somewhere I knew that one day; he would leave me and wouldn’t care to look back. But then everything was going fine, for 3 damn years, it was all amazing.
One Saturday, we went on an awesome dinner date and next Thursday; he said those 5 magical words, “I can’t do it anymore”. Magic, isn’t it. How something so insignificant to the world leaves you shattered in a second. In that moment, I didn’t know how to feel. I couldn’t cry. I was just shivering.
We had this conversation at our workplace and I came back to my cubicle, told my colleague who used to sit beside me that it’s all over. Yes, I had said that. It was all over indeed. I couldn’t be at my desk, couldn’t go anywhere, as if my mind was trapped in a lost world.
I took the rest of the day off saying that I was sick, which was true. Now that I think of it, recovering from a bad break up is worse than a lot of other diseases I have had. The next two days I stayed home and cried. I don’t remember eating anything. Today it’s the 6th day and I already feel better, though my parents think I should be married off ASAP, my friends think I was foolish enough to trust that guy in the first place, my colleagues think it must be my fault that it didn’t work out and my neighbors think that I am too short to be wedded off (not sure what that means).
There are moments when I cry and cry and can’t stop crying, and that will continue for some time I believe. As they say, the more the tears, the stronger you are. Right now, my focus is to find a new and better job, and I hope to be indifferent to that bastard as quickly as I can.
P.S. The ‘I’ in this piece is not me. This is for a friend. Thanks for reading!