pensing...

Slowly finding my feet. This time, I'll take care of myself first. There is much unfinished. It hurts, it hurts, but I will find a way.

...maybe more like a bungee jump

I'm probably still on the first downward plummet...or have I reached the nadir and been jerked back the other way, falling up?

It's amazing how I can go from feeling relatively fine, to having the sensation of ashes in my mouth, to screaming rage, to a void of grief. At least I'm trying to take better care of myself...if you count smoking too many cloves and not really eating as "taking better care". I'm culling--things I should have given to charity years ago. Five giant garbage bags and counting. At least a shelf's worth of big books. Some of them quite lovely. Maybe I'll give the storybooks to friends.

And all the while it still doesn't seem real. Finding notes from just weeks ago that say "I love you", thinking back to Friday night when he asked about where I thought we should store the air conditioner for the winter...I think that's seared itself into my brain as the emblem of how weird and and sudden and *wrong* this all is.

But I guess it wasn't sudden--not really. But it really was. Unhappiness, spells of feeling down--that's normal. But to think someone's down and so you give them space until they need to talk, as always, and then they become more and more withdrawn, and then you find out they've been mindfucking someone else? ...and can't even contemplate being with you at all because someone else is more "in synch" with them, and they have a lot in common? WTF????

I can't be out, I can't be at the apartment, I can't be in my own skin. I wonder if being able to float like a balloon would help...or would I just float away? Right now, I feel as though there's no firm ground to stand on.

rollercoaster

You might have just barely managed to keep your cock in your pants, but your mind and your heart should've stayed in your pants too. Somehow, the more I think about it, the greater the violation it seems.

Stupid fucking "deep, meaningful" conversations that meant you "connected" with her--you should have been home, trying to connect with me. I had actually finally let myself trust that you really were in this for the long haul. And I fucking had to *ask* if you wanted to break up with me. The longer you stayed and playacted, instead of coming clean, the more nails went into the coffin. And not from my end. I don't fucking want this to happen. Moving out and into our own places I can handle, and I think it's a necessity. But totally gone? After nearly 4 years together and 3 years living together? Because you have "feelings" for someone you've been flirting and talking with more meaningfully for a few weeks? That's not a reason--it's a fucking excuse. You fucking spineless coward. You've left people before, with similar excuses about needing to find yourself and be alone, but *falling* for someone and sabotaging any chance of you being able to try? That's a first, and it's shameful that you're starting to need to find better excuses for ending things so you can carry on with this sad, lonely pattern.

But then maybe we've both been too depressed and sick for this to work. Stupid hindsight. Stupid asshole. I love you, and this dissolution seems so terribly wrong.

this is futile, but...

...all I can do is pace this fast-crumbling floor and cry aloud: PLEASE COME BACK. Pleeeease come back. I know it isn't possible, and it won't happen, but I find myself like so many out there in the universe, vainly hoping that the pleas, the wanting will make it so.

My heart is clawing at my mind, keening and lost and childlike, unable to comprehend what my mind knows: that it's over. You've gone, and you're not coming back. Crying, wanting, and desperately, silently screaming "I'm sorry" for things not-done and things I couldn't be won't bring you home.

The only comfort that would help is yours, and I am alone.

heartbroken.

sometimes people die; sometimes it's relationships.
no more to say than that.