To All The Girls Who Still Talk to Their Exes

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By Brooke Fitzgerald


You are not a corner store. 

Do not let him come to you at 4am in a drunken stupor asking for something sweet. You are more than a candy bar craving. Tell him there is a food market down the street. 

Do not feel bad when you let him in anyway, but I want you to know that this phone call will feel like bricks tied to your face. This late night walk is not the beginning of anything new. This study break will remind you an awful lot of your first date. Do not get your hopes up. Try your hardest to talk about the weather and rent. 

Do not delve into everything you miss about him and the way his fingers are still laced through your life. Say you’ve kissed five different guys…and one girl. Say you are moving to Spain. Say your internet is shitty when you hang up Skype too quickly, about to cry. Do not call back. 

Spend the rest of your night drinking wine with your roommate reclaiming your happy. Tell yourself you are Tim Tebow in the end zone. You are Beyonce. You are Miley Cyrus twerking up against a metal pole. 

Send him a message first thing in the morning. Pretend this is normal again. Click through prom pictures until you realize five hours have passed and there is still no text back. 

Cry. Hard.

Curse everyone who told you love is patient. Pound your pillow until you cannot tell the feathers from your fists. Drink the rest of the wine by yourself. Wonder if in another universe you’re still on that bridge together. Cry again. Harder. 

Drunk dial him and say that you always had to fake it, that you never want to talk to again, that you hate the way you never stopped loving him and you still wear the bracelet he gave you. 

You are going to feel alone for a very long time. It will be months before you delete his number from your phone. Sometimes you will still sleep with his flannel as a blanket. None of this will feel like healing. In fact, on the best days it will feel like you keep peeling back skin only to find the same thing underneath. 

Keep digging. You are more than a bad night. You are more than the best boy you ever had. 

You are not a corner store. You are the coffee shop you start going to months later. You are the smile you give to the barista when he asks for your number. 

You are the simple response: “Hold the sugar today.” I promise, you are better off this way.

writer photo

Brooke Fitzgerald

Brooke (b.e.fitzgerald) is a poet from Philadelphia that has dealt with heartbreak more than she would care to admit.

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