hurts.
Badly.

It just does.
But if it doesn’t hurt, how real was it?

Also…
Is it worse to cause or receive it?
I say yes.
Because…

So far as being the one to receive the heart-smashing blow…well, we all know that familiar pain.  That literal physical pain which makes it hard to breathe, stemming from the shock of the over.  Especially when it’s unexpected.  God that’s hurtful.  And the grieving process can be so long and annoying.

And being the breaker-upper?

Young me had a certain fear of getting dumped, especially when my person at the time described waking up next to an ex one morning and- poof- out of love.
Just like that?
Just. Like. That.
Daaamn.

I found myself looking over my shoulder every few months.  Is it time?  Is this the morning?  But months turned into years and the sweet honeymoon evolved into dealing with life’s annoyances, joys, tragedies and permutations together.

And one day it was me who felt the impasse.

I had never done the break-up before.  There was anger, feelings of betrayal and many tears shed.  My person had to leave the apartment to process.  Then the phone rang.

I can’t remember the conversation verbatim.  Some key words included driving, what?, bridge, stop, jumping, WAIT, STOP, sorry, HOLD ON, you, hate, I’m calling the cops, DON’T call the cops, I’ll do it, just STAY ON THE PHONE, ILOVEYOUILoveyouIloveyouiloveyou.

I heard the cars so I knew it wasn’t a stupid fucking joke.  We shared a car, the one that was on the bridge and I had to stay on the line.  I felt completely trapped but fuck that, I just needed to know my person was going to be alive.  Like 8 minutes ago I needed to know and counting.  I have never known such consummate fear; I don’t remember blinking or breathing while waiting, absolutely terrified and paralyzed and waiting.

So I would say my first attempt at breaking up was a total fail.

I would also say that you don’t really know someone until you try to break up with them.