Things My Ex Gave Me: Anxiety, A Hoodie, and Trust Issues

I still wear the hoodie.
Not because I miss him.
Because I’ve convinced myself it’s part of my personality now.
Comfort core. Sad girl certified. Trauma in cotton blend.

He said I could keep it.
I didn’t know that meant I’d also be keeping the anxiety, the overthinking, and the habit of rereading old messages like a detective trying to solve my own emotional murder.

Souvenirs From the Relationship.

Let’s be real. When we talk about things our exes left behind, it’s not just the hoodie or the playlist.
It’s the rewiring. The residue. The weird little patterns you don’t even notice until someone new asks,
“Why do you say sorry before asking for anything?”

So here’s what he really gave me:

• A hoodie that fits like safety but smells like emotional confusion
• An overactive brain that now thinks “lol” in lowercase is passive aggression
• A playlist I can’t play anymore because every song feels like a lie
• The urge to screenshot sweet texts “just in case” he switches up later
• A nervous laugh I do whenever someone asks, “So, what happened between you two?”

I told myself it was love.
But if I’m being honest, it was just attention, consistency, and good lighting.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most. How close it almost felt.

How the Relationship Rebranded Me (Without Consent).

Before him, I wore whatever I wanted.
After him, I started wondering if my top was “too much.”
Before him, I loved sad music ironically.
Now I cry during the first 5 seconds of a song if it sounds even slightly like a voice note.
Before him, I slept well.
Now? I leave something playing in the background — anything to avoid hearing my own thoughts ask,
“Was it even real?”

He didn’t just leave.
He shifted things.
Like now I explain my feelings like I’m on trial, because being emotional with him always felt like too much, too fast, too inconvenient.
And I hate that I got used to shrinking just to keep the vibe alive.

I Stayed Because I Thought I Could Make It Mean Something.

The worst part?
He never actually promised anything.
No “forever,” no big declarations.
Just vibes. Just enough “I miss you” texts to confuse my brain into thinking we were building something.

But I wanted it to mean something, so I filled in the blanks.
I made the silence sound like safety.
I convinced myself that waiting was patience, not self abandonment.
I told my friends “he’s just bad at expressing himself” when really he was just bad at being honest.

And somehow I stayed.
Because I thought if I tried harder, he’d try too.
But love shouldn’t feel like you’re studying for an exam in a subject they made up just to keep you chasing.

The Hoodie Scene (You Know the One).

It’s late.
You’re tired, but not sleepy.
You’re wearing the hoodie.
And you’re scrolling through his profile for no reason except to see if he looks happier without you.

Your playlist is doing too much:

 Laufey — “From the Start”
SZA — “Ghost in the Machine”
Joeboy — “Contour”
Billie Eilish — “Happier Than Ever” (because you love pain)
Tems — “Free Mind” (for false hope)

You sit in the dark, listening to lyrics that feel like they were written in your group chat.
You pause the music.
Then you play it again.
Because heartbreak makes you ridiculous like that.

Why I Still Have the Hoodie.

People always ask, “Why haven’t you thrown it away?”
And I could lie, say I forgot, or it’s just comfy.
But honestly?

It’s because I haven’t fully let it go.
Not the hoodie. Not the idea. Not the version of me that believed this was going somewhere.
Sometimes keeping it feels like proof that it wasn’t all in my head.
That the laughter, the flirting, the late-night convos meant something.
Even if it ended like a bad punchline.
Even if he moved on like I was a soft launch.

Cancel Me Softly

Breakups don’t always come with big fights or clear answers.
Sometimes they just fade.
Sometimes they ghost.
Sometimes the only thing left is a hoodie and a hundred “what ifs.”

This isn’t about missing him.
It’s about mourning the version of yourself that was still hopeful.
Still open.
Still believing that “good morning” texts meant something real.

So keep the hoodie.
Cry in it if you have to.
Just remember:
He didn’t break you.
He gave you a story.
And Crackko helped you turn it into content.

Say it loud for the healing girlies in the back:
“My ex gave me anxiety, a hoodie, and content. I made the rest mine.”