Mistletoe Misery.

I just stumbled upon a Facebook photo of boyfriend and his best girl friend kissing under the mistletoe and my stomach is in knots. Granted the photo is from years ago, I imagine it was taken the Christmas before he met me, but I'm still sick to my stomach and don't know what to do with myself. So I immediately turned on the saddest album I know. The album that reminds me of all the pain relationships have caused and I'm having a private pity party down memory lane reminiscing of times love has hurt me.

I've been Lied to. Cheated on. Called out. Cussed out. Laughed about. And even after all the years of heart repair gone by I still feel worthless. Being cheated on was the one thing I never wanted to happen to me. Being the last one to find out didn't make the experience much better. It makes me forever wonder why I wasn't good enough, why I wasn't worth it, and when it will happen again. Though I lived through it and survived it and know what it feels like, I never want to feel that again and I'm scared to death I will.

The fear suffocates me inside a cocoon filled with insecurities. I'm convinced boyfriend is not really in love with me. Convinced there is something or was something or might in the future be something with this best friend he's kissing under the mistletoe. I don't want to be that girlfriend so I choke the feelings down, tuck them away in the black holes of my heart and let them resurface only when alone.

I pretend I'm cool with the hugs and the "Oh I love yous" and the stories told time-and-time again of "that one summer", the best summer of their lives, the summer they got shit-faced drunk everyday. But it breaks my heart. And seeing the Facebook photos doesn't make the experience much better.