Carly-Ann

May 26, 2015 @ (Pennsylvania, Philadelphia)

Tags: break up


When I was 13 I met a boy in my eighth grade social studies class...let's call him Jason. Jason and I became good friends pretty quickly, and by the start of high school we were dating.

Fast forward to junior year, and things got a little rocky. He started becoming moody and irritable, yelling at me for the most insignificant reasons, like missing one text he had sent while I was at soccer practice. I cried every day, but I still stayed with him. In November of senior year, he played in a football game against our rival school (which we lost). I knew he would be pissed, so I tried to console him. Big mistake. He turned on me, calling me a stupid b**** and how he hated me and that I was nothing but a loser. I started crying a little and yelled at him that if he hated me so much, then he can just leave, thank you very much. He shoved me (not hard, but enough to make me stumble a little) and told me that we were over. Well, that was it. I ran home from school (I didn't even care that his teammates were staring at me) and started crying my eyes out. He texted me a few minutes later saying how sorry he was and asked if we could get back together. I said yes, and for the next couple weeks everything was fine.

Well, stupid is as stupid does. In December of senior year, I heard him talking to his friend about how much of a slut I am and how he wishes he could just break up with me without me making a big scene. I didn't even have the guts to stand up to him. I just ran to the bathroom and started to cry. We have not spoken a word to each other since then.


       


 

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