I couldn’t believe it. My boyfriend, Garret, had broken up with me. After ten months and three weeks, he had dropped this bomb.
It had been an ordinary day. I had gone to school, and then came home to talk to Garret on the phone. Now Garret’s not the most social person, but that day he was even quieter than usual.
“Gar, what’s wrong?”
“Well, something has to be wrong. You sound…different.”
We talked for a few more minutes.
Finally, I asked him to tell me. That was the worst mistake of my life.
“How much do you want to know, on a scale of one to ten?”
“How much do you want to tell me?” I asked back.
“I don’t know.”
“Fine, a five.” I said sighing.
“Do you have any ideas?”
“The only one I can think of, I’m scared to say…”
“Then you’re probably right. It’s not you; I just don’t feel like I can have a girlfriend right now.”
“Okay…” I said fighting for control. “I have to go…” I whispered softly with the little voice I had left.
He kept talking, while I hung up the phone. I sat in shock, and then ran crazy around my house collecting every single thing that he’d either given me or reminded me of him. Three hours later, it finally sank in. I sobbed while talking to my mom. Then I sobbed while talking to my friend Kat on the phone later.
I cried off and on all week long. I couldn’t look at him at all on the first day, and then on the second day I couldn’t stop looking at him. Then Friday, I had a mix of both.
I’m trying to cope, but it’s not that easy. Everyone thinks it’s no biggie, but it’s a huge biggie for me.