I broke up with myself 

because I wasn’t treating me right

I started petty fights and

left passive-agressive notes 

on the kitchen counter

I beat me down and

made me feel worthless

I wouldn’t let me go out 

with my friends

we didn’t have the same taste in music and

I cared too much about sports but

not enough about global warming

I just didn’t look at me the way I used to and

worst of all

I was selfish in bed

we had a good run 

I just didn’t see a future with myself

now I would be free to do whatever or 

whoever I wanted

of course there was the issue 

of who would take the flat screen TV

I let myself have it but 

I took all of the first edition books and 

of course – 

the antique copper tea kettle


          Why do we only ever talk about how beautiful it is to fall in love? Falling out of love can be just as beautiful. People forget that. Sometimes, falling in love is what’s ugly. Falling in love can make you lose yourself. It can make you go crazy and do things completely against your better judgment. Falling in love can change you. It can make you hate yourself. It can make you hate everyone else. It can make you hate love.

       Falling out of love is like waking up. It’s like the first sip of a hot cup of black coffee at 6 o’clock in the morning with a light breeze blowing through the kitchen window. You’re still a little groggy. A little unsure of what lies ahead. You don’t really feel like talking to anyone. But you begin to feel refreshed. New, different, calm. Ready. Falling in love never makes you feel ready for anything. It confuses you, jumbles your thoughts. It makes you question your morals. Falling in love is terrifying. 

       Falling in love is making compromises, but there are some things you should never have to compromise. Falling in love is doing what society told you to do. Falling in love is expensive. Falling in love is easy. Falling in love is forgetting everything you’ve ever learned, all because of one kiss, a few glances, or a thousand embraces. A few dozen meaningful conversations and all of a sudden, you feel funny inside whenever you see this person. You don’t care if it makes you late to work. You don’t mind if it makes you drink too much, or causes your grades to plummet. You don’t care if it makes you spend less time with your best friends. You don’t even mind when it begins to eat into your very important “you” time, because it’s love. It’s love, and it’s so beautiful. 

       Falling out of love is hard. It’s weighing options. It’s writing endless lists of pros and cons. It’s growing up. It’s letting go. It’s being sure. Falling out of love might mean hurting someone else. It  might mean hurting yourself. It’s raw. It has consequences.  It’s the part the movies don’t show you. It’s the chapter your favorite novelist left out. It’s scary, but all of the best things are. Falling out of love means not having to answer to anyone anymore. It means not having to ask anyone but yourself for permission – or forgiveness. 

       Falling in love means sharing your bed and your precious bathroom cabinet space. It means arguing about thread count and brands of soy milk. It means putting someone else’s needs before your own. It means saving the last bite of the cheesecake. And holy shit, you love cheesecake. 


       Falling out of love is returning to the person you once were, or becoming yourself for the very first time. It’s realizing when something is not right for you, and walking away from it. Oh, it will leave scars. But scars are interesting. Scars are stories. Scars are what will make someone else fall in love with you someday. Falling out of love is the beginning of something, not the end. And sometimes, it’s the beginning of something really fucking great.