I know I’m messy. Showing up drunk at your ex’s apartment at midnight and opening the door (why wasn’t it locked) and seeing him with his arm around his coworker in the chair you bought for him might not be the best way to spend a Saturday. 

But at least he admitted he cheated on me. Or, in his words, we weren’t together. So he just lied about it. And made me believe he hadn’t seen anybody at all. And said he loved me and wanted to get back together but wanted to “be better” for me.

The Monday before I saw them walking home to his apartment together. At least they didn’t kick me out this time. She just left. And I threw myself in the bathtub–clothes on, shoes too–and said I wanted to die. I said kill me. I threw my bag down and my phone’s screen protector (I think ahead) cracked. And I wonder why he’s been lying to me for weeks. And he says the absolute dumbest line ever known. Because he didn’t want to hurt me. The instinct of self preservation, more so.

I thought about throwing myself off the balcony for a brief second, but I’m not that messy. The floor smelled like vomit. He said he projectile vomited on the carpet the day before. I never know how much of what he tells me is true and what he omits. 

He accuses me of omitting details from stories I tell him. I think he’s probably accusing me of that because he does it. 

So, friends, that’s a wrap. I’m gonna be good now.

Just kidding. 

But seriously I hope I get the fuck out of this thing because it lowkey sucks and I also need a social job.

Also, I think about how when I showed up, it was the exact right moment–AND the door was unlocked. I saw this TikTok, the first on my feed, about how no matter what decision we make–we’re really just part of something bigger or whatever and no matter what choice it is, we’re making the right call and we can only just hope the universe guides us or something. The universe is going crazy with this plotline right now.