Can I live?
Is this what heartbreak feels like? Like somebody tossed my entire being into a blender and just went full throttle until the buttons no longer work.
Last night, I found out that Gregory Polanco has a girlfriend. Our happy home destroyed just like that.
He couldn’t even tell me. I had to find out on Instagram. On Instagram!
Some shorty was leaving love notes and heart eye emojis under his pictures. And his fool-ass responded. With kissy faces. What adult does that?!
So I went and checked her out. On her page writing love letters and stuff.
She’s pretty. No shade.
I just … didn’t expect to get my heart broken this way. He knows where I am, he could’ve called and told me before I’d get embarrassed like this.
I was faithful.
I mean, yeah, I was referring to Josh Bell as “boyfriend #2” on Twitter. And yes, I wrote sonnets to Felipe Rivero. And maybe I run to get hugs from Ivan Nova first. And I might stand in solidarity with Francisco Cervelli. I might do these things, sure.
But I loved him and knew that and he goes on Instagram and has me out here looking super foolish.
I was out here claiming him in the streets. He wasn’t claiming me. What type of novela s*it is this?!
I’m on my way to watch Starling Marte play in his first game since he was suspended for using performance-enhancing drugs. I’m sitting in left field to watch him parade into his rightful place in our glorious all-Black outfield. Polanco will be overjoyed to see his best friend back on the field.
He ain’t give a damn about me. And my feelings though. He ain’t overjoyed to see me.
I should unfollow him. But I ain’t that petty.
(And he’s too fine. So whatever.)
This is part of my attempt to write every day in July. You can follow the series here.