Breaking up Is Like Throwing out the Trash

One of the perks of being in that phase just after graduation and right before you start working, taking some leisurely time off under the pretense that the financial crisis isn’t helping Egypt’s employment rate much… I think I lost the trail of this sentence. Anyway, one of the perks is having all this free time to do all the stuff you usually want to do but never get around to because there just aren’t enough hours in a single day and not enough weekends in a single week.

Today I happily did two of those things. One of them was that I got to write in my blog. The other is that I cleaned up all the junk that has been piling up on my desk for almost a year now (since I moved to my new room when my sister got married… Yup, my sister is celebrating her one year anniversary this month… Wow, one whole year! Time sure does fly) and also the junk that has been piling up on my old desk in my old room… I’ll assume the junk there has been piling up for two years. And by the way, you should know that I consider myself to be one of the most organized people in the world.

Yes, yes, so anyway, of course I’m not writing to tell you all about the awesome time I had with a huge, blue garbage bag and little dust particles. What I am trying to write about (with a somewhat long and chatty introduction) is the things I came across from among the junk that has been collecting on my two desks for the past two or so years. Or in particular, one certain thing I came across from among all that junk. It was something I had spent around two weeks making for a certain ex-boyfriend of mine while he was in California. Of course my millions of fans that have been following my blog regularly know exactly who I’m talking about, but I’ll refrain from allowing this ex-boyfriend to read this post about him when he Googles his name. It doesn’t feel appropriate.

Long, chatty and emotionally-confused story short, I threw that thing I had found in the big, blue garbage bag along with the dust particles and other junk. It feels weird that I would throw out something that a little over a year ago meant the world to me. And that is how I discovered that breaking up is not only like losing a toe, it’s also exactly like throwing out the trash. Or maybe those are two stages that come after each other. Break ups: It’s like you lose a toe, then some thousand tear-soaked tissues later, it’s like you took out the trash. Sometimes my own witticism scares me.

 

P.S. I am truly sorry to all my fans if the font, text size and spacing are inconsistent throughout my last few posts. I have had this Macbook for probably two months and I am still Mac-illiterate.