Ex just got married and its impact on me

“I wish I had never met you. Then I could go to sleep at night not knowing there is someone like you out there.” (Good Will Hunting)

Ex just got married two weeks ago and yes, it has an impact on me. He’s been with this woman for years. In those years, I also keep on imagining what could have happened if we were still together… If some five years ago, he didn’t cheat on me for this girl he now calls his wife.

I have been avoiding to think about him. I’ve already met a lot of guys since we broke up and although nothing really got serious I actually fell for a few of them. It just didn’t work out the way ours had worked out. They didn’t become official the way ours was official. And I wasn’t suicidal about them the way I wanted to die when he left me. Perhaps the only thing that makes them the same now is they all ended so quickly.

When I’ve learned about their wedding, a sudden trance stormed me from within. In his post, he called her the woman of his dreams. I wasn’t hurting anymore but there’s a weird, shivery feeling inside me that wanted to be acknowledged. The universe, as if it was not cruel enough, just slapped me the ugly truth that even if I roll in my bed a thousand times, the thought that the man of my dreams had dumped me like a nightmare will still never make me sleep. Then I prayed that if I ever going to see him someday, perhaps a few years after this fucking wedding, I’d no longer be miserable about that.

It didn’t take too long before the universe gave me another slap, as if telling me that there’s no way it would answer that prayer. The day after his wedding, I saw him at the hospital while I’m attending to a sick friend. I’ve been stuck at her room the entire day then in that one time that I had to go out for a few minutes, he was there in the corridor, with his sister and another relative. My world stopped for a few seconds, every nerve in my brain went on a convulsion, while my heart is freezing in nostalgia, hardened by that certain kind of familiarity that even made me recognize the old shirt he was wearing.

“What are you doing here?” He said, acknowledging me after that awkward stare that lasted for at least five seconds, as if trying to recall who I am and what kind of role I played in his life while I remembered vividly how he was the only guy that I have loved so friggin bad.

I don’t want to be that person who has a lot of hang-ups, whose issues in life seem so dragging, but there are times when the memories are just suddenly too overwhelming. I want to think that me seeing him in this random moment after his wedding is just a poor twist of fate, that maybe I’m just overthinking, so yep, for old time’s sake, I responded.

The encounter left me uncomfortably cold and with a grumbling stomach. I wanted to go back to the past, cry in front of him, and shout at him for kind of ruining the idea of love to me… that even if I try, even if it happened a long time ago, it still fucking hurts. Because of him, I am now a messed up, helpless poor little girl seeking for comfort from different types of men who can’t love me back, who feels she has nothing to lose anymore, who feels she deserves less and less. I don’t particularly like the feeling of being so low but that’s where I am right now. All I did was love him with all my heart but one day, he broke through my ribs and crushed that little, beating heart into a juice of blood that spilled through my ocean.

I wanted to reserve myself for someone truly special— the first kiss, first date, first everything— but after giving it all to him, I have now nothing to offer but a broken heart, pleading for attention. I want to feel special but the pain he’d put me through over the years drew ugly scars in all parts of my body that even myself don’t like myself anymore. And now, I’m wondering why the hell he is so fucking happy right now and I’m not? Isn’t it supposed to be otherwise?

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