“I’m sorry,” he said, “I made a mistake.”
Yeah, I kind of had that figured out by now. He cheated, I found out, he apologized, I knew he was insincere. What else was new? That’s the way it always goes.
We were both seventeen, an age that imitated, but never really experienced love. So I couldn’t say I was surprised with how it ended, or even that it ended. I was a cynic when it came to love to begin with; he just confirmed my assumptions.
To be honest, I can’t even pretend I’m heartbroken. He stormed out of the coffee shop; I sat there sipping my coffee unaffected. Am I heartless for doing that- for not even crying as he left?
I don’t think so. Is he honestly worth my tears? Never. So once again, I will pick myself up from the dirt, where he left me, and move on with my life. I will throw away my coffee cup, and all the memories of him with it. After I walk out that door, I will never think of him again.