So I've noticed that breakups force me to actually do things with my life. It was a little less than a month ago that I went through my first horrible breakup ever. We'd been together for about a year and half, and in that year and a half we'd spent every second glued to each others side cooing things like, "oh I love you so much" and spurting off pet names and planning a future together. We were that couple. And the worst part was that since we were (and still are) so young, it seemed that everyone except for us expected it to end at some point.
Now to fully understand the level or devastation I went through in the days of post-breakup madness, you have to realize that we had planned out our entire futures together. A month from today I'll be making a three thousand mile move across the country, and he was supposed to be coming with me. Well, he's not anymore. So all my plans essentially went to hell.
The first couple days of post-breakup hysteria were spent on the bathroom floor of my dorm room crying like an idiot and listening to Adele's "Someone Like You" on repeat and singing along. Now, no, I'm not accustomed to crying exclusively in bathrooms, but I'm living in the dorms right now and I hardly talk to any of my roommates ever (That's a story for another day). I didn't think they'd appreciate my tear-stricken Adele-singing face all up in their business for three days. I'm sure they also didn't appreciate having to walk downstairs to use a restroom, but I had to make a judgment call.
In the aftermath of the first three days of crying Adele fits, I remembered that I had a paper due in two hours. The "oh crap" feeling set in and for the first time I sat down in front of my computer not to Google things like "Why doesn't he love me?" or "What went wrong in my relationship," but to actually do something with my life. The feeling of dread at potentially failing this paper threw me into a kind of focus I hadn't had in a long time. And, somehow, it was liberating.
After the paper was written and turned in I felt the familiar urge to return to my cramped bathroom, blasting music and making pathetic Google searches like a thirteen year old girl. Instead I decided to write, and I didn't stop for a long time. Before my relationship I was always writing, and somehow I'd abandoned that interest the second I became "Carly and someone else" rather than just "Carly." And then, for a second, I felt relief at the fact that we had broken up.
You see, somewhere along the line I forgot what I actually enjoyed doing. So now, here I am, starting a blog because I have nothing better to do with my life... except maybe school work, but who really cares. I'll get to it someday. Basically, my breakup made me decide to do something with my life for the first time in a long time.
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