“If someone comes along and shoots an arrow into your heart, it’s fruitless to stand there and yell at the person. It would be much better to turn your attention to the fact that there’s an arrow in your heart…” -Pema Chödrön

It’s never good enough, and it won’t be at this point in your lives. You walk into his bedroom and he has those jeans on you really like, so you stare at them and let it slide one more time. He doesn’t know what he wants and that’s not his fault, he’s never had to be this for anyone before, in his life, neither of you has ever had to be this for anyone.

Last week at about 2 pm you received a text and it’s really descriptive and lengthy, at least on your tiny Verizon EN-V touch screen. It becomes clear real quick that this message was definitely not meant to be sent to you, in fact, you probably should have never known anything about this, “confession” because it’s all about you and two of your best friends oh, and your boyfriend.

Awkward, tragic, horrific, hilarious. That’s how I’d explain an idiot of an ex-boyfriend who confesses that he got with two of your best friends, to you on accident. Whoops, big-fucking-whoops. The worst part is that you’re in class and you are trying to hold back this insane cackle because you literally can’t even. You sit there and wonder how your life hasn’t been filmed because your relationship might as well be a cliche-reality TV series. So you text back something that is short, clever, and concise which demonstrates just how fucked he really is.

Have you ever dated someone that felt like a drug? Some one whom absolutely built you up, then tore you apart so much, leaving you with nothing but a terrible comedown, that you just keep going back for more? I pushed aside my phone and walked home that day, knowing that although I was crazed and pissed, our relationship wouldn’t falter, not too far at least. After all, we loved each other. Drug addiction is an internal battle. It’s you and only you who can pull yourself from the fire. When you can’t go one more day without the high, you crawl back to the thing that in the end, is killing you. No one can help you with the addiction because at the end of the day it’s you, standing alone and facing your own voluntary destruction. By the time you realize it’s time to walk away, you’re reeled back in because you want to feel that high of being desired just one more time.

So you stand there and stare at a boy or a girl, who is tearing you apart. You are both tearing each other apart. It’s mutual destruction because it isn’t right, not now. But you convince yourselves it will be different, you can make this work, you can change each other. So I stare at those jeans of his I love and look into his brown eyes, which do have so much love for me, I know that. But he can’t show it, not now. I need him though and know I will eventually figure this out. So I let it slide, just one more time.