Favourite Split Friday

Happy Favourite Split Friday, aka the emotional rollercoaster I never wanted to ride but am now operating full-time.

Let’s talk about him – my FP (favourite person) I’ve definitely blocked at least twice this week.

I loved him so much I memorized his typing patterns.

And now I can’t even look at his name without wanting to throw my phone into traffic.

Splitting 101:

He was:

• My comfort person
• The human version of a dopamine hit
• My proof that someone could still want me

Until suddenly he wasn’t.

One weird vibe, one vague reply, one “lol” that felt off – and now?

He’s a monster. A liar. A stranger.

Someone I should’ve known better than to trust.

And then I cry about it. Because I miss him.

And then I hate him again.

And then I check his story.

And then I block him.

And then I unblock him.

And then I spiral.

You get it.

Intrusive Thought of the Day:

“If you really cared about me, you would’ve known exactly what I needed without me saying it… and you would’ve said it first.”

Favourite Split Moment of the Week:

So I saw my ex pull up. He’s friends with my neighbour (because of course he is), and I happened to be outside. So I did the brave/impulsive thing and texted him:

“Come outside for a sec lol”

He didn’t.

Because he didn’t see the text. Until hours later.

When he finally responded, he basically apologized and was confused on why I was texting him (it had been a month of no contact at this point) but the last part of his text read:

“I can come outside if you want.”

And somehow, that made me even more mad.

Because I didn’t want him to come outside because I asked.

I wanted him to want to come outside. I wanted him to run out the door like it was the final scene in a movie where he realizes he still loves me and never stopped.

But instead, I got an “if you want,” which felt like a pity offer.

So I did what any emotionally stable person would do:

I didn’t meet him outside.

I got mad.

I stewed in it.

And then I blocked him.

Because I didn’t want him to be indifferent. I wanted him to care.

I wanted his response to match the level of intensity I was pretending not to feel.

Takeaway (if there even is one):

Splitting isn’t about being overdramatic. It’s about being terrified that love isn’t safe. That people are just time bombs. That if you don’t burn the bridge first, you’ll get left standing in the smoke.

Anyway, I’m the villain and the victim this week.

We ride at dawn.

-Em (borderlinewithwifi)