Falling apart

Breaking up is hard to do.

No kidding. Especially in a long-term relationship. Even more so in an long-distance relationship. You know how tough it is to make things work with 800+ miles working against you? Pretty damn hard.

I think breaking up gets a bad wrap. Yes, of course it sucks, but things fall apart all the time. You can choose to be the parallel lines that glide alongside one another indefinitely, but never intersect, or you can choose perpendicular lines, which come to a point, then diverges into their separate ways. But at least they meet.

I’m not going to become an overnight romantic and spew words of strength and wisdom. This sucks. I do, however, know that we could have held on to the threadbare fabric of our relationship, or we can attempt to end on a positive, civil air that suggests maturity and adulthood.

I think maturity lies in knowing the right time to toss what’s left of the positives into your memory bank, attempt to forget the rest, and try to salvage your emotions. Maturity is knowing that you’re going to be okay, and living with that. Waking up and repeating the mantra, “I am smart. I am independent. I am okay.” And maybe I don’t really need to chant it, because I have been, mentally. I moved cross-country with little more than a Master’s degree, hand-me-down furniture, and my faith. That’s courage.

And you know what? I’m [going to be] okay.

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