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The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at SBU chapter.

I broke up with my boyfriend on Friday. This whole experience has been one of the hardest and most mentally draining things I’ve ever had to go through.

In the aftermath, I am left feeling empty. I have not cried since that day, and I feel all of that sadness coiling around my body like a serpent. I know it will leap out eventually, but meanwhile it’s trapped in my skin, festering.

The tears haven’t come. Instead, I have a constant ache in the center of my body. Sometimes it’s a stomachache that comes with tidal waves of nausea whenever I think too much. Other times it is a heavy presence on my heart: almost as if a hand was squeezing my heart to keep it going.

I feel as if I’m unfeeling while the weight of my feelings almost topples me.

I miss him. I miss what I thought my future was going to be. I miss having someone there for me in such a way that only a long-term partner can be. I still cannot imagine that I will never talk to him again. Or that I won’t just wake up and be able to drive to his house on a sunny, summer day. I feel this gutting of my insides when I remember that I won’t be hugged the same way again.

I am paralyzed by a crushing fear of being unlovable while simultaneously knowing I’m loved.

I know I am supported. I feel the love that those closest to me have in their hearts for me. But I cannot stop the tiny voices in the cracks of my mind.

I’ve been torturing myself with the words of an imaginary figure I’ve thought up in my head, “but you broke up with him. You hurt him. You hurt the person you’re supposed to love the most. You ended the joy you once had.”

And this eats away at me.

I cannot help but think that I am only hurting myself, as well as him, by my actions. That I am in the wrong and this big problem I’ve create would all be solved if I was just a better person. If I could have been better.

I do not feel I am a good person all the time, like I feel I should be. Being good is hard. I put a lot of effort into trying to make myself good, even trying to be great, all of the time.

This is when Mary Oliver speaks directly to me.

“You do not have to be good.”

She tells me that I do not have to slave for a future that does not want me. I do not have to be right or wrong.

Rather, I need to feel all that I am. I need to embrace that “the world goes on”. That around me the world is beautiful, and I have people that love me.

I know I know how to love.

I know the wild geese will call out to me one day and remind me of where I belong.

Abigail Taber is a second-year writer for the St. Bonaventure chapter of Her Campus. She enjoys writing about culture, entertainment, and the happenings in her college life. Abigail is excited to shadow the editing team this year and to be a part of such a cool organization that centers around the work and interests of women. Beyond Her Campus, Abigail is the poetry editor for the literary magazine on campus, The Laurel, a member of College Democrats, and SBU for Equality. Abigail has had her creative writing published in both her high school's and university's literary magazines. She is currently a sophomore at St. Bonaventure University, double majoring in English as well as Literary Publishing and Editing. In her free time, Abigail, or Abbey to her friends, enjoys reading, listening to music, and looking at art for her next tattoo. She is a music trivia master and a known enjoyer of any, and all, romance books. She hopes to pursue a career in publishing books in a big city. Growing up in a small suburb of Buffalo, New York, Abbey hopes to embody the city-of-good-neighbors attitude.