I'm lonely. Not all the time, of course, but it's there, and it's palpable. I keep telling myself that everything relationship fails until one doesn't. I keep telling myself that I needed this break... this 18-month break. I keep telling myself to just be my awesome self and if it's supposed to happen, it'll happen.
It all sounds hollow, however, when I go to bed each night. That's when it descends. I hate it, but what can I do? I begrudge no one else their happiness, certainly. And yes, relationships are hard, it's not always pretty, blah, blah. Spare me. That sort of bullshit is manufactured by people in relationships to alleviate the guilt they feel when someone comes out with something so plain.
I'm lonely.
Don't feel guilty, and don't ply me with bullshit. Just let me have this, because pretending it doesn't exist only exacerbates it and makes me look the fool... more foolish than the revelation that, two years later, I still think about him. More than I should. My heart doesn't ache like it did. I no longer care about his reasons. I'll never speak to him again.
He broke me, I think. Sometimes I'm scared he did. Most of the time, I'm positive he did. I'm saddened that I am no longer in awe, fearful I will never feel that again, and angry I was deceived into thinking he felt the same way. That's a lot of feeling for someone I was convinced I'd lost all feeling for. I can close my eyes and feel my heart bursting when I was near him, and seizing when it all fell apart.
Like yesterday.
I've only seen the future once... and I was wrong. Two years on, I'm not quite sure how to handle that.
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