Ode to Narcissism

I've decided I'll live.

Break-up or no break-up (there most definitely was a break-up), I will be fine.

We met for dinner tonight at this Mexican place by his house.  We ordered margaritas and food.  We talked openly about these feelings that are causing this break-up, and how we both need each other, and how we’re best friends and should remain as such, and all of that other stuff people say when there’s nothing left to say.  I cried into my plate.  Not those loud, embarrassing, wheezing sort of cries - the kind where you’re trying not to cry, but can’t help it, so every five seconds you’re wiping at your eyes and looking down, because that way it seems like no one else can see you.  Which they can.  The kind that really tugs at the heartstrings when other people see it and think to themselves, “Poor girl.”  I made a silent scene.  He paid for dinner (the first time in I can’t remember how long).  We hugged, and I left.

Time to take my medicine, I guess.  (Meaning:  it’s time for me to deal with what I’ve had coming for awhile but was avoiding like the plague).  This is what I deserve, and I mean that in the healthiest way possible.  Really.

Enough of this for now.