breakups
When it comes to breakups, pain is inevitable, but Humans thinks that suffering is optional.
The Girl, Part Two
Phil was everything to me. But he blew it. I hope he knows that, now. He didn't understand at first, but I hope he's come to realise it. He wasn't able to give me what I needed. He was neglectful as a boyfriend for the last six months we were together; he never used to be like that but he changed. When he moved back home, to Lancaster, he became distant. He didn't seem to care about me. If I called him, he often didn't answer. If I left a message he rarely got back to me. When I texted him it took him hours, sometimes days to respond.
By Kate Edwards8 years ago in Humans
The Girl
I think about Laura every day. It's been just over six months but I still see her face whenever I close my eyes. It's true what they say; you really don't know what you've got until it's gone. I know I messed things up and I didn't treat her the way I should have. I know all that. And it's too late. But it doesn't mean I don't still love her.
By Kate Edwards8 years ago in Humans
The Last Selfie
Steam billowed behind her through the open bathroom door. She tightened the towel across her chest and padded to the bedroom. The scent of furniture polish and Airwick mingled with the lingering scent of her bubble bath. She dabbed her pink skin gently with the towel and reached for the jar of La Mer on the thrift store dressing table she’d bought that morning. She breathed in it’s soft aroma. Half the jar was gone already, she’d have to use it sparingly in future. But tonight warranted something special. She massaged the lotion into her skin in slow circular motions. Her hands were tight and red, her shoulders ached, but every surface of the apartment gleamed. She closed her eyes and sighed with satisfaction. She wrapped herself in her cashmere robe and went into the living room, taking time to drink in the freshly vacuumed carpet and battered pine coffee table. Her eyes fell on the bottle - the only dusty thing left in her new home. She smirked as she remembered the day it was bought. The vendor in his white gloves guiding them through the maze of oak casks to the “special selection”- rows of dark dusty bottles lying in cushioned racks, and the crown jewel, resting in it’s own lined casket. The vendor hovered his hand over the bottle. He spoke with her husband in reverential tones about tannins and bouquets. She had stifled a yawn. This wasn’t how she had expected their honeymoon in Venice to be. The Vendor had explained that they could import specific dust to adorn the bottle. Her snort of laughter had been silenced by their glares. When they spoke of the price, she baulked.
By Hazel Hitchins8 years ago in Humans
Breakfast with the Ex (Part 1)
There we are. Sitting in silence. Me trying to hold my anger in, shoveling waffles stuffed with eggs and cheese into my mouth. I was hoping that would keep me from blurting, "You're an ass" across the table. I swirled my blueberry compote around my plate; I wondered how many people thought my food choice was odd. This is my life right now. Sitting across from my ex/roommate/baby daddy, I realized what an odd situation I was in.
By Veronica Orsayne8 years ago in Humans
Open Letter to the Man Who Left. Top Story - December 2017.
Looking back on it now, I realize you weren't worth it. I have seen scarier monsters, braved worse storms, I have even dragged my legs through bloodier thorns. Nothing compared to the hurt I felt when you told me what you did. How does somebody cheat on someone they claim to love? How does somebody deny and ignore and shut out someone fighting for them tooth and nail? I'm anxious to know, is it because you were hurting too?
By Sarah Holdsworth8 years ago in Humans
Abuse Is Not Love
Getting my first boyfriend at age 22 wasn’t exactly how I wanted my love life to start. Guys weren’t really into me in high school or college. I was always a “great friend.” Hearing that made me feel pretty pathetic. All I wanted was to have a guy in my life that loved me for me: not my looks, what my job was, where I lived... blah, blah, blah.
By Jenna Goldberg8 years ago in Humans
The Girl from the Past
A girl I used to know walks up the platform and sits on the bench where I'm sitting. I know her right away. She's the one from my past. I saw her, years ago now. She just disappeared into the background, and became a memory. I pause for a moment, and note how this seemed to happen with so many people that I've once associated with.
By Holly Bushnell8 years ago in Humans
