The funniest thing about falling out of love is that no matter how strong you might have thought it was, when it's truly over, there isn't a hope in hell to ever reclaim it. For instance, when I was in sixth grade I had a strong love affair with gummy worms. I'd scrape pennies together just to go up to the store and get my paws on a bag of gummy worms. Yummy. Out of all of their eye catching color combos, my favorite had to be the red and clear duo. Delicious. So for about maybe half of the school year, I was constantly indulging in this affliction which soon induced a sugar coma.
I ate sooo many gummy worms that one day I came home (from polishing off another bag of them on the way back from the store) and I went straight to the toilet and threw up the most glorious rainbow of worm guts. The vomit, which was laced with sugar, tasted similar to what is now known as Redbull. Had I the insight that I do now, I would have scooped that vomit out of the john and sent it right away for a patent, which would later make me millions of dollars and also place me in the center of a plethora of lawsuits.
Thank god for the gummy worms though. They were my first true experience with falling out of love. When once before I would have dug through the trash if it had gummy worms in it, now I can't pass them in the candy isle without remembering the damage that they caused my stomach. I have no desire to ever eat them these days. They don't bring me the same joy as they used to. Honestly, I can't even remember when I last had one. Plain and simple, they don't matter anymore. Just like that. All it took was for me to reach my limit and every single ounce of love that I once had for them has vanished into nothing but disdain. Kind of like some people in my life...
