wake up call

Day 1:

Today my boyfriend of 5 years and 8 months broke up with me.

My heart is in a million pieces. And yet, I still try to trick everyone around me that everything is fine. Who am I really trying to fool? Others, or myself? The old tale is becoming true before my eyes, you really don't see what you had until it is taken away from you.

I love him so much, and I know that he feels the same way about me. He says that I didn't have the time for him, when all I do is try to give him everything. Am I supposed to give up the things I love to do just to appease him? I know there should be common ground, but I never realized that I was pushing him this far.

How pathetic I must look to a bystander right now. Nearly 5 in the morning and I have no other way of getting my feelings out except by creating a blog and listening to Enya. Epitome of a dumpee.

He calls me and tells me he made a mistake. He wants to be with me. Why do I ALWAYS have to be the person with the decisions. Ball is in my court, and I decide whether or not I continue my life with him and perhaps fall in the same hole we are in now, or do I stay true to what he originally wanted and not falter just because he left me crying in my own bed?

I am your average college student. I am a few weeks away from taking the MCAT, I am stressed about getting into medical school, and on top of it all, my rock of nearly 6 years has just left me.

I somehow convinced myself that I can move on, and that I can be his friend, and that that is what I want. I guess miracles can happen.

I just want everyone to know that I am not some emo college chick who is complaining about her life. I consider myself pretty normal. But my inability to convey my emotions to anyone (except him) is kind of biting me in the ass now. I'm not suicidal or anything or the sort, just a confused soul trying to find a way to get through it all.

I doubt anyone is going to read my blog amongst the million other people who are actually optimistic about their lives. I guess that's just not what I'm about.

Again, I am not depressed, just overly negative. I tend to bitch about stupid things and I will go on rants on occasion on the things that bother me. For example, the diva boss bitches who showed up to the Sex and the City 2 premiere in their fake louis vuittons and 5 inch platforms. Like, what the fuck? Carrie Bradshaw isn't about to come out from the screen and compliment you on your lack of style. Memo to all of Miami, fake designer ANYTHING isn't cute. It's just tacky. Try getting a job, stop watching movies at fucking midnight about a life you wish you had, maybe suck a dick or two, and get money to buy your own stuff.

Hah, who would have thought that me ranting about bitches would make me feel better....and just like that, the world is at peace. But not really, more like a purgatory. Maybe I'll see the cast of LOST and tell them how they just wasted 6 seasons of television by ending the show with a dumb ass ending. They were all dead??? The fuck? Why is ABC trying to pull some sixth sense shit on me. Now I remember why I hated that show. Ahhhh.

Anyway, time to sleep. English class at noon. Brilliant.