A Year of Love

Due to a recent event--a break up to be exact--I've chosen to begin blogging again. My intentions are not to waste both my time and yours by creating a depressing database of passive aggressive thoughts and monotonous actions. In one episode of Sex and the City, Charlotte says one should take approximately however long of a time period the relationship lasted to be single, recuperate, and eventually get over it. As childish as it may sound, I hope to chronicle my troubling thoughts and the challenges I face as a single broad--for a year and two days. Wish me luck, *fingers crossed* and please keep me motivated so that I'm pushed to write faithfully each and every day.


I guess I should start from the beginning. I was almost 19 when we became "official," and it was a huge deal for me. And I mean HUGE. I had just graduated from high school, fresh new face on a city college campus. Having spent my entire life single up until that point, I was comfortable sleeping alone and being a third wheel on outings. And then he came along.

Hear me out, he wasn't just some upperclassman stranger preying on innocent little freshman girls. In fact, he was my friend. I had met him through a friend, one of my ex-best friends--yes, everything's related--, and although we lived too far for many leisurely hangouts, we still kept in touch sporadically. We called ourselves one-month-friends.


The summer before college was the summer I could proudly carry around my own first cell phone--yes, apparently I get everything late--and well, you can probably put the pieces together.

Summer '10 = 3+ hr late night phone calls & unlimited texting
I wouldn't take back a single second.


He was the best at making me laugh--which I'll admit isn't difficult at all in general--, but he could also flatter me like no one else could. Because well, no one else ever really could. The perfect charmer.

For the three years I had known him, I always sensed some sort of spark between the two of us. Although I assumed it was the mere attraction of flirting, I couldn't help but daydream about possibilities. This is perhaps the only daydream that has ever come true.


It's difficult writing all these sweet things about him because I'm starting to fool myself and wonder why I even ended it. I miss him so much. I miss his kiss, his touch, his eyes, the way he could hold me so tight. It's been six days since the break up, and it's just now starting to hit me. Is it weird to say that it although I was the one who initiated the break up, it seems as if I'm more shaken up than he is? How do most people feel after a year of love?