Breaking Up and White Flag

Editing note: this post was tapped out quite awhile ago when the pain was still fresh. I guess i've pretty much gotten over it now. But i can't bear to chuck this post out, so... Here it is.

Stupid promises. Forget the useless dreams. Damn the sweet nothings. In the end, when all that's left of a relationship is the trash you sweep out of your room and into a stash in the corner (where a small part of you still clings on to hope that somehow, things can be mended), chuck the memories out of your head and try to ignore the numb bruises on your heart, reality sets in and you blame the stupid hormones for making you a lovesick puppy.

What POSSESSED me to imagine that we'd live the rest of our lives together happily, feed each other breakfast in bed, go grocery shopping hand in hand, blah blah blah... When it boiled down to its miserable ending, the whole relationship degenerated into a choice between Rex (the eating disorder) or the other person. As though i had a choice; Rex wins out over the bickering. And to ask me to quit exhibiting symptoms when i'm really sick is akin to tell a drunk alcoholic to sober up.

Blah, i'm a bunch of sour grapes today. Treasure your sweetheart while he/her is still around; when all that's left of that dream is just a cold spot on the bed and an ache for someone, anyone, to put their arms around you, you still have the lukewarm phantoms of the memory in your heart.

PS: Dido works wonders for heartaches. I fell in love with White Flag.