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In which the author discovers she's a bitch
I think perhaps I'm just really insufferably selfish. Sadness comes from pitying myself, and I'm really just not sure if that's normal. Breakups always make me feel like, "Oh, there's something wrong with me because they don't want me, wah." Never "Oh crap, I can't be with them."

I don't know how much I've missed J in the last six months. If I did, it was fleeting. I think the majority of my brain was happy to be "free" and able to do what I want, and the depression was more a reaction to the idea of being rejected at all, rather than being rejected by him in particular. The thoughts of cuddling was missing the act of physical touch in general, not really with him.

And I feel kindof bad about that. He's visiting next week and wants me to stay with him. I don't know how I feel about that.

Then I see on Facebook that he's been talking to at least two girls in the Portland/Vancouver area who are probably better matched for him than I ever was and it makes me angry. It makes me want to take as many selfies with him as possible and post them all over with him tagged so they can see I still have a modicum of control over him, even though I really don't even want to be his girlfriend.

And suddenly I realize I'm a bitch like all the other girls.

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2013-12-07 @ 3:05 p.m.