There's a stigma about breakups that you're only supposed to remember and recall the negative so you stay away, heal, don't go back. Especially for men, we're supposed to get someone younger, hotter, make more money, and get hotter. And to do this, you almost have to over-identify with this smallness of self and lean into that negative state.

I choose differently. I don't Miss my Ex. I miss my Motherfucking Homie ya'll. I've tried to just keep this to myself but it won't stay and I feel the pressure build up and as I navigate convos it seeps out unconsciously. So I took my time, wrote this, slept on it, reflected, and feel like this validates my own identity as someone navigating grief.