I’m going to chop all my hair off. Cliche, I know. Women always seem to get a haircut after the break up. I get it. It’s a change; we feel it’s a positive change. That and we aren’t looking to impress anyone for a while; so if we turn into Chucky or Charlie Brown, it has time to grow back before we even feel like looking for another relationship to grow our hair out in.
What happened? This used to be easier. They were meaner; they were harsher. Then, I wised up; I started dating smarter. I thought that would be easier, but it’s not. It hurts more when you are in the arms of greatness, but it still isn’t right. When did I throw away my scissors and start tearing through this mess with my bare hands?
I sat in the thick of my thoughts, hurt by the understanding that I would hurt them. What happens when only one person can see the truth in a two-person world. He is confused; he doesn’t understand what happened. I happened.
I’ll take that on. I cannot say I have done you wrong; because unlike you, I see what we would have become. But just like you, I had hoped, too. I have to burn all that down, just like you.
They hug you; they bring comfort. I wasn’t worthy of you. I don’t know what I am missing. That’s okay. They are probably right. I walked away from our future lit, knowing full well that someday when you draw her close and breathe her in, that you will be thankful I let us burn.
So, I chopped my hair off. And by the time it grows back out, maybe I’ll be ready to get my hands dirty again. Maybe you’ll be telling your date about how you had nobly risen from my ashes.