And in other news...

So I finally broke up with my boyfriend. What fun that was! The little twit cheated on me twice at least and the only thing that kept it from being an apparent third was that the guy he met online wasn’t that cute in person. I’ve been resisting the urge to write about him, but withholding emotion does bad things. I don’t dare talk to him, for fear my words spew like acid. He’s a fragile little creature, and can’t take what I have to say to him. I’ve no wish to obliterate him, though he’d better watch his step. People who cross me learn quickly to tread lightly. My mother is a prime example of this. She fears upsetting me, as I may never speak to her again…or something like that. I’m not quite sure what it’s all about. Really the only difference between me and other people is that I have my boundaries firmly established. There are set patterns of acceptable behavior, and if you deviate, you get purged from my life. No one steps on me, let alone someone with whom I would like to spend the rest of my life. The point he fails on is this: I do not need him in my life; I want him in my life. I do not depend for my survival on anyone but me. He, though, is probably already dating someone else, or just out there turning tricks, for fear of being alone. He’s incredibly needy, and completely untrustworthy. He’s deviously dishonest without reason, and his vacillation makes him unreliable. I will miss him, perhaps, when the novelty of having my life back wears off, though I doubt it. I look forward to building my life again, after he ripped it apart. I may find someone who is ready for a mature relationship, or I may simply make my way in the world with only my friends. Either prospect makes me happy, and brings peace into my once chaotic universe. Things long forgotten finally begin to fall into place. Friends long forgotten, return to me eons later. What joy I find in my life now.