tell me, what did i do to make you hate me so much?
why're you angry all the time? why do you wanna run from me?
we used to make love
when you called, i would follow
now the only thing you love is a bottle
the only thing you've got left is a shadow
don't let this shit come between us
i'm wrong, you're right
it's okay with my heart
but it's not how it's supposed to be
you always say, "i'm done, we're finished"
fuck it: i'm wrong, you're right
please, God, help us
i guess i'm gonna leave it up to you tonight
[he] ain't bluffin'
[he's] gonna do it
i think it's time for me to face to the music
i could really give a damn about my pride but the way you're acting is stupid you're going back and forth with the lies, never compromise
if you love me better, prove it
i can't win
i can't win for losing
it don't even matter if you scream and yell you don't love me you don't love yourself
but it don't matter if you're raising hell: i miss you
i wanna kiss you
i can't remember who you are remember when your heart used to say, "love me, baby"?
love me, baby
I'm in the middle of packing right now and I stumbled across a note I wrote to myself a few months ago. My initial instinct was just to throw it away along with all the other papers and notes and miscellaneous receipts I keep for no real reason whatsoever. But then I stopped and read it.
Okay, so, I haven't even put one of these together in a long time -- like, what? 2 years? -- and it's only the second day of April, but I can't stop/won't stop listening to the following jams (so, duh, I had to "share"):
In other news, guess what's really hard? Being an adult. And trying to figure out where I want to live or who I should slash should not date. Because, basically, every time I think I know my ass from a hole in the ground, I realize that I most certainly do not.
And it's normal to be discouraged slash frustrated slash overwhelmed by that.
Sure, I may seem out of control – crazy, even (but, omg, don't even get me STARTED). And sometimes I feel like I don’t even know
what to expect from myself, but the reality is I’m just a creature of habits, good and bad.
It’s been a long time – four years, actually – since I’ve
found myself here in The Break Up. I was
naïve enough the first time around to think I’d never be here again but, like
clockwork, all my old ways and wanderings have returned like no time has passed
And I can’t decide if that’s depressing or amusing.
The Break Up: Health
Adopt a strict diet of Spaghettios, fudge brownies from the
neighborhood 7-Eleven, and medium cheese pizzas ordered from the Domino’s located
so close to your house that it might actually take less time to walk there as opposed
to waiting for delivery, but walking anywhere would require that you get
dressed and that’s just something you cannot be bothered with (see more under
The Break Up: Fashion). Keep a full
bottle of Advil PM by your bed so, you know, should you get tired of being
awake and wallowing, you can dream-wallow instead. Weeeee!
The Break Up: Beauty
Stop showering (let’s be honest – how often did you really
shower before?) and stop tweezing your eyebrows. Don’t even bother pretending you have the energy
to go out and get them waxed (again, this would require putting on real
clothes, which is stupid). Occasionally
wash your face. Occasionally brush your
teeth. Occasionally apply mascara in the
dark before running down to check the mail.
Wear your hair in a ratty bun for seven days straight – briefly consider
adding a headband, but then don’t.
The Break Up: Fashion
You’re clearly not working on your Post-Break Up Bod yet, so
who gives a shit? If you absolutely must get
dressed, pull on fat jeans, a long-sleeved Nike dry-fit, plus those old, worn out
Sperry’s that usually sit in the back of your closet. If it’s cold, throw on that camo Columbia
fleece you bought on sale at Academy in the little boys' section last Christmas
– don’t obsess over the fact that you bought it in preparation for a trip to
your ex’s friend’s ranch because you wanted to look like you in any way whatsoever
belonged on a ranch around dirt and guns and nature (when you, in fact, don’t). If it’s hot, trade the dry-fit and fleece for
the gray and white striped Target v-neck.
You only wear it when you’re depressed, anyway. Don’t bother with a real bra – rock the
bright green racer-back because it’s more comfortable and no one’s looking at
your boobs anyway.
Above all, avoid changing out of the oversized Mayde Creek Cross
Country 2004 t-shirt. Avoid
putting on pants as well.
The Break Up: Lifestyle
Sleep late. Sleep all
day, if possible. Think very seriously
about exercising, but then don’t.
Finally feel guilty and fat enough to do some squats. Alternate between napping on the couch and in
your bed. Contemplate hiring a maid so
someone will wash your sheets and rinse out all those bowls of dried soup –
they’re really starting to clutter up your kitchen counter. Start making to-do lists. Throw them away as opposed to actually completing them. Google "cheap local therapists." Wade through the disappointing results and accidentally end up with the most expensive option, then find a way to deal with it because she's awesome.
The Break Up: Entertainment
I know you’re not into How
I Met Your Mother, but since you (for some ungodly reason) own seasons 1-4
on DVD, watch them. DVR old episodes of Entourage. Attempt to watch Khloé & Lamar, but turn it off if (okay, when) you find
yourself crying during the opening credits because you’re too jealous of their
love (wtf). Clueless and Mean Girls
are fail-safes. No matter how much you
want to, never watch The Last Kiss –
it’ll make you cry even more than Khloé & Lamar. Re-read teen novels you loved in high school. Re-read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series (yes, all four of them). Skip over all the parts with Bridget and Eric and Lena and Kostos. Listen to any and every song
by M.I.A. and dream about one day making an I’m Back, Baby playlist to
celebrate your emersion from The Break Up.
In the meantime, give in and listen to Imogen Heap on repeat.
Okay, so maybe it’s slightly more amusing than depressing.
Here’s to hoping I make it through The Break Up this time
around (no promises, though).