Breakups

This has never been a dating blog. In fact, over the past two and a half years and know that I frequently skirt the issue of breakups on Mini Penny. Guys sporadically come into my life, shoot a couple photos for me, and then disappear. And I never explain why.


It's my way of projecting good vibes and keeping the not-so-good moments to myself. Sure.

Elizabeth from Delightfully Tacky recently wrote a blog post that could not be more perfect for how I'm feeling right now: Candid Thoughts on Bloggers' "Perfect" Lives. In the post she mentions that we, as bloggers, are real people. We cry, hurt, experience loneliness, the whole spectrum:

I was talking to my best friend the other day, sort of about this. But more about real life, not just perceived online perfection. About how loneliness can be overwhelming at time. About feeling inadequate and unappreciated. Just real stuff that real human beings deal with daily.

I'm not sure what sparked me to actually write about this breakup, especially considering that the relationship wasn't particularly special. I was dating someone who would rather be on his phone instead of having a conversation with me. I was dating someone who wasn't willing to talk openly with me about anything. I'm mad at myself for letting it all get to me, knowing it just wan't right in the beginning. I'm sort of mad at myself for not being stronger and listening to the warnings other women gave me. There's something therapeutic about absolutely lying face-first on your sofa sobbing. It thoroughly will wear a person out.

By the end of my tantrum, I realized that I was, by proximity, alone. Of the Philly friends I texted and called for a shoulder, no one was there for me. That's rough. Really rough.

And in an odd way it's sort of been like that since I moved here.

I start to worry that I'm too nice or too forgiving or too flexible — I give too many chances, and at the end of the day the men boys who become a part of my life take me for granted and leave. People want me to be what Instagram or my blog build me up to be. That's, frankly, an XL Bummer. I'm not perfect, I'm quiet and observant, I'm intellectual, and I'm an open book. There are dimensions to me that, unfortunately, most of you will never see.

One of those dimensions is, rarely, heartbreak.

I pulled myself together, sat on my stairs (I don't know why, that part of my house is boiling hot right now) and sure enough, hanging right in front of me was probably the single most important print I have ever purchased:

Everything is going to be okay. 

I feel a lot. I keep most of it to myself, because society has this twisted view that women with feelings are crazy. I love and I hurt and I get better and do it all over again. I gave myself an aloe face mask, put on some eyeliner and deleted him from my social media. And, as I told him, I'm rad and he's a stupid-idiot (exact words) for not wanting to hang and have fun with me. From here on out I go back to facing this city alone. Facing the trains. Facing the scary men who follow me on the streets. Facing the filth that is Philadelphia. And at the end of the day, you know what sucks the most? Not having a single person to share it with.

So here's to all the gals who are afraid to talk about their feelings on the internet. Feelings exist, even the bad ones, and they happen to us all. I genuinely hope that you all can balance out the bad with the good. Even if it means buying a poster at the craft fair and hanging it in spot where you can remind yourself everyday.

Trust me.