“Sometimes, it’s not about tearing the bandaid off. It’s just about accepting that, one way or another, it has to come off. And even if it takes a really long damn time, and it hurts and stings and pulls at every ounce of energy you have, you have to do it. You have to accept that this is your reality, that this is what breakups are like now.”
The day that it’s over is never actually the day that it’s over.
Because you’re too connected. You’re too intertwined. You know each other’s families. You know each other’s friends. You know everything about each other’s lives.
And that doesn’t just stop on the day you break up. It takes days, weeks, months – sometimes years – to untangle your lives from one another. To separate your existences enough to the point where you can actually visualize the possibility of moving on without them.
The way that a breakup is supposed to happen is that on some ordinary, uneventful night, somebody decides it’s over. After weeks or even months of doubting the relationship, one or both of you decides, usually on an impulse, that today is the day to end it.
And it should be over in that moment, after you’ve hugged and cried and said goodbye.
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