2: 00 am. class in 7 hours. drunk. GERMANY I CAN’T KEEP UP WITH YOUR DRINKING HABITS.
And her parting words were, of course, soo Friday? Beer? Dancing? More beer? Meals seem completely unnecessary with the amount of beer these people drink. How can you fit sausage in your stomach? I just saw you drink 4 LITERS OF PILS.
Sleep sleep sleep. Feeling better. At first, I admit, I felt pretty pathetic. Here I was, feeling sad all over again when I had been well on my way to recovery. Why was I crying over this asshole? It seemed absurd. And then, it came to me. I EARNED these tears. Why am I upset over this betrayal when he’s clearly moved on to some other, I’m sorry to say, foolish girl? Because I’m pathetic? No. Because I was LOYAL. Because instead of slowly withdrawing from my relationship without letting him know about it, I was IN it. I was there, I was committed. I was honest. So, yes. It sucks that I’m still getting over the person who so easily discarded me and then offered nothing more than, “I’m putting my life back together; I hope you can do the same.” It sucks more than I want it to. It hurts more than I want it to. But all this proves, is that I’m brave enough and self-aware enough to laugh when I’m happy, and to say when I’m not. Before I’m so over the relationship that I feel ready to jump into another one a week and a half later. I’m emotionally mature enough to own my pain and recognize that diving into another committed relationship less than two weeks later is probably not the healthiest way to recover from heartache. I’ll serve my time, because my heartache was well-earned. So I’ll cry my tears, and I’ll call Gwen every few days when I relapse. And then, I’ll move on knowing that my deportment hasn’t left half of my friends feeling ashamed of the person I’ve become.
