It’s good to see that for the first time in the history of my breakups, a breakup hurts. So bad that it makes me wanna run right back and make amends. Admit that it’s been a hasty decision. But then that would be a big mistake from which there’d be no coming back without hurting either party involved. And I am plain tired of the drama, the cuss words, the messy breakups, the string of broken hearts I’ve left behind and moved on and the you-deserve-better-than-me consolations which I couldn’t mean any less. The oxytocin-deficient self wants some peace and ‘me’ time. Thassit.
Love did not happen. Big surprise there. Hah.