I'm going to start posting more of my writing...1 page story go times!!

We broke up how many months ago? I honestly can’t remember. I barely remember that time. After we did, I went through hell. That’s all I can remember.
I went out drinking almost every night.
I met men who weren’t you.
I told myself they were better than you.
I got the numbers of a couple of the basketball players of the local team.
I didn’t do anything with them that I wouldn’t have done with you if you had said something.
I had been willing to do anything for you.
Anything.
All you had to do was ask.
You asked for other things - the things that obviously didn’t matter. I agreed to all that you wanted. Lose weight? Ok. Wear makeup? Ok. Dress better? Ok. Speak more slowly? Ok. Don’t ask? Ok.
All I wanted – Don’t lie? No.
Granted, for months I had thought about breaking up with you, but I thought that I was just scared.
Scared of commitment.
Scared of ruining something because of fear.
Scared of being hurt.
Scared of pain.
You broke me. Did you know that? You broke me and now I’m not sure I can be fixed. Not that it’s a bad thing.
I got jewelry.
I got memories.
I got bruises.
I got experience.
Now I know what to look for – the dead eyes, the lack of attention, the fact that someone who is supposed to be going out with me doesn’t even remember the simple things about me. Did you ever listen to me?
Now I know what to expect – not much, the lateness, the inability to make time, the always being busy. Being busy going out with other people. I was yours, and you were everybody’s. Hardly fair, but we were young. You more so than I. You were a child. A brat, really. I was dumb. That’s your type, right? A person who’s too dumb to know what’s really going on. I should have known. The signs were there. The scratches on your back. The fact you never called back. The inattention. The late nights. The lack of money. The bad sex. The ill temper. The condom in your back pocket. Was it for me?
I’m glad we broke up. I think it was best for both of us.
I lay you down to rest, I pray the Gods your soul to rate. If you lie before I wake, I pray the Gods your balls to take.
You didn’t need me.
I don’t need you.
Life taught me a good lesson.
Did it you?
When will it, I wonder.
How many more lessons do we have to learn?
When do we become adults? Maybe next time we meet, I hope we’ll both have figured that one out.

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