Every once in awhile… I break down

Every once in awhile I break down. I think of Will and my heart aches. It really hurts. I literally can feel the pain and it tears me down emotionally and physically. I wish for him to come back, I hope he realizes he wants me. But that’s just so unrealistic. I can’t help but think about him. What makes this worse is that I will never see him again. My previous ex boyfriends all lived in my area so I would see them and I could keep a friendship. I can’t do that with Will and it bothers me. I would love to see him around still I don’t want him out of my life forever. It’s not like I made that choice or I want it that way. He decided I should move on and now I have no option, but to do it. And you’d think the out of mind, out of sight idea would help me get over him, but it’s doing the complete opposite. It’s making me miserable because I feel like I will never speak to him again which is probably what’s going to end up happening. And I don’t know why this is taking such a toll on me but every time I think about him I want to cry. I miss him. I guess I’ll eventually get over this phase and get over him. But once I go back to college it’s all going to hit me again. He won’t be there and I’ll be stuck in the same place I am now, feeling the same way; as if I will never see him or talk to him again. Sometimes I just need to vent. This is that time.

Know what else sucks? I’m starting to hookup with guys again. I’m not trying to hurt them on purpose anymore, I’m just trying to have some good fun. But when I have these breakdowns, I realize all I want is one guy. I just want one person to make everything all better again. One guy to lay my head on and cry on his shoulder, and tell me everything is going to be okay because I have them now. I don’t need another guy best friend, I have those. I just need one guy to be there for me as my boyfriend. Someone I can share my happiness with and understands where I’m coming from. I’m sick of being single. It’s depressing. And it’s depressing me.


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